
















1 * 




*■ 










I 







































































































LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 

OF 

ALBERT TEUFEL, 


THE MURDERER OF JAMES WILEY. 



The following memoir is a- correct history of the 
eventful life of ALBERT TEUFEL, written from 
notes taken hy tire author from tire lips of tire subject 
of tlrls sketch, while in jail, after Iris conviction and 
after tire day of Iris execution was appointed Try tire 
Governor. 











































































LIFE, ADVENTURES, AND CONFESSIONS 


ALBERT TEUFEL 

CONVICTED OF 

THE MURDER OF JAMES WILEY, 

WITH ‘HIS 

Trial, Speeches of Counsel, Conviction and Sentence* 


- 


BY ARRELSEE. / £ - 



The folloflwing memoir is a correct history of the eventful life of Albert Teufel, written from 
notes taken by the author from the lips of the subject of this sketch, while in jail, after his 
conviction and after the day of his execution was appointed by the Governor. 


i ■* 

i J ■) 


.^<ary of Co* 






I w 


t, DOYLESTOWN, P 4 ?/ f 


I 


^ Washing^ 0 

W. W. H. DAVIS, PRINTER. 


1867 . 

/ 





fXrt 











Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1867, in the 
office of the Clerk of the District Court of the United States, in and 
for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 




J 




\ 



ALBERT TEUFEL. 
















































































































































SKETCH OF THE PHRENOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENTS 


OF 

ALBERT TEUFEL. 


A LBERT TEUFEL has a very strong constitution ; great physi¬ 
cal strength; endurance and power both of body and mind; he 
is well formed, bony, muscular, athletic frame, active, fond of motion ; 
black hair; dark skin; dark eyes;'a strong, steady pulse; hard 
flesh; works and moves with more ease than most men. 

His phrenological organization indicates a marked character. The 
size of his brain is full (2If in.) ; his propelling and executive facul¬ 
ties large, which, with his active brain, give him impetus, enterprise 
and efficiency; and he drives what he takes hold of. 

His Amativeniess is large. —He is passionately fond of the other 
sex ; he is an ardent admirer of their personal charms ; he can easily 
ingratiate into their good will, become acquainted, exert an influence 
with them, and kindle in them the passion of love; he has his 
warmest friends with the female sex, and when his sexual feeling is 
strongly aroused, its restraint extremely difficult His concentrative- 
ness being only moderate and adhesiveness*average, he is apt to be 
inconstant; soon wearies of his attachment to one, and seeks a new 
object upon whom to bestow his love ; courting many and love the 
pretty face and figure best that he sees last; with his vital tempera¬ 
ment predominent, his causality moderate and conscientiousness only 
full, he is less partial to their morals than their personal charms ; 
with his acquisitive and adhesiveness only average, he would not 
marry for money, or connubial love so much as for animal gratifica¬ 
tion ; his combativeness being large, he will protect and defend the 
object of his love with great spirit, resenting forcibly any indignity or 
scandal offered to their person or character ; his alimentiveness large, 
he will greatly enjoy the meal taken with a female friend, no matter 
who she is, so that she is beautiful and lovely; his secretiveness 
being only average, he will show as much love as he feels; he will 
show it in his eye, his looks, and actions. 

His Adhesiveness is full. —He is a sociable, companionable, warm 
hearted friend; his combativeness, destructiveness and self-esteem 
large, and acquisitiveness only average, he will make large sacrifices 
for his friends, and will defend them with spirit. 

Concentrativeness , moderate. —He is able and inclined to pass 
rapidly and easily from one kind of business, or occupation, thought 
or feeling, to another, from point to point in conversation without 
1 



6 


PHRENOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENTS. 


connecting or arranging them; he will get angry quickly, but unless 
the injury is deep and intended, cannot retain his anger. 

Vitativeness, fall. —He hangs on to life tenaciously, but rather as 
a secondary, than a primary object; he loves life not so much for its 
own sake as for the gratification of his strong passions; his Hope 
being large he will seldom think of death, looking upon it as some¬ 
thing far off, and almost improbable. 

Combativeness , large.— The full development of this faculty with 
self-esteem and firmness large, eminently qualify him to meet 
difficulties; overcome obstacles; brave dangers, endure hardships; 
content for privileges; maintain and advocate opinions; resist en¬ 
croachments ; resent injuries and insults ; will defend his rights to 
the very last; seize upon whatever he undertakes with the spirit and 
determination requisite to carry it through all opposing difficulties; 
is successful in business; he rather glories in opposition than shrinks 
from it; he is quick tempered and very severe when aroused. 

Destructiveness, large. —He possesses that sternness and severity 
of character, which makes others fear to provoke him; he ac¬ 
companies his commands with a threat either implied or expressed; 
is pointed and sarcastic, if not bitter, in his replies; feels strong 
indignation towards those that injure or displease him, and is 
disposed to persecute them by injuring their feelings, reputation, of 
interests, and by treating them with entire contempt and neglect; 
experiences a feeling of revenge and bitterness, which he takes 
delight in showing. , 

Acquisitiveness, moderate. —He desires money more as a means 
than an end, more for its uses than to lay up ; he spends freely for 
the gratification of his passions; and seldom accumulates property; 
he will almost throw money away to serve his will and accomplish 
his objects. 

Cautiousness, large. —He looks at every plan and project with a 
careful, anxious eye before he concludes upon the course to be 
pursued and hesitates long before he finally decides; is slow in com¬ 
mencing, yet when once interested in a project pushes it with great 
spirit; may be timid and fearful until his courage is once excited, 
will then be bold and fearless; he combines discretion with valor. 

His Secretiveness is only average, and therefore he is not very 
cunning or artful; but he can keep to himself what he wishes to. 
His Self-esteem is large, which with his large combativeness, 
destructiveness and firmness, makes him haughty, domineering, over¬ 
bearing, authoritative, and extremely selfish. His Hope is quite 
prominent, making him cheerful, lively and sanguine ; he looks upon 
the bright side of everything, and takes but a slight glance at 
discouraging circumstances. His Spirituality, Veneration, and 
Benevolence are only average, which make his moral character very 
deficient. 

The above are the principal faculties that make up and influence 
his character. 


INTRODUCTION. 


M Y kind readers ! I hardly know how to introduce myself to you. 

To become fully acquainted with me you must read the whole 
book. But you may want a general introduction before you begin 
to read this memoir. 

In the first place then, I am and always have been a very remark¬ 
able fellow. Report says, I was begotten in jail; I know that during 
a great portion of my life I lived in jails , and from the way things 
look now, I shall die in jail. 

At present, I live, move, and have my being in the public board¬ 
ing house in Doylestown, called the u Bucks County Jail.” This is 
a very old establishment, but being well built of everlasting material, 
it is still in its normal condition. It is located in a prominent place, 
in the quiet village of Doylestown. It is a very healthy place, for 
we live and grow fat, on bread, water and fresh air; I, however, do 
not get my share of the last, and therefore I do not thrive as well as 
the other boarders. This place has rather a glooiny appearance, and 
is dreaded very much by all evil-doers. This is owing, perhaps, to 
the associations, one is apt to connect with it. The back yard is 
enclosed with a high stone wall, to prevent loafers from getting in 
the back way, for it is a privileged house : no one being allowed to 
board here without an order from competent authority. I was 
brought here by an escort of the Philadelphia police; lam a very 
distinguished individual, for you ought to have seen what a magni¬ 
ficent reception the boys of Doylestown gave me. My escort would, 
however, not allow much ceremony. The alderman made out a pass 
for me in the ante-room, and the fat, jovial landlord showed me to 
my rooms. He thinks a great deal of me, and manifests much anxitey 
at my safety and welfare. He put me on the second floor of the left 
wing of the capacious building, into a room to which there is a 
double door. The inner is an ordinary wooden door; the outer 
one is rather ornamental, being made of heavy iron net-work, so 
massive and strong that it is impossible to break it. I, therefore, am 
well protected from robbers and burglers. So exceedingly anxious 
is my kind lord to keep me, that soon after I was brought here he 
procured a heavy iron chain and fastened one end to the floor and 
the other to my ankle. He also provided me with a pair of bracelets, 
but having no particular fancy to them I took them off, and for fear 



8 


INTRODUCTION. 


that my kind host would insist upon me wearing them, I broke them. 
But to my astonishment, he soon furnished me another pair, which 
I served in the same way. The third pair was brought, and in addi¬ 
tion to them also, a pair of what are commonly known as “ shackles.” 
They were rather cumbersome, so I took both off, as often as they 
were put on me. At last they were left off, and a new chain was 
procured, both ends of which were fastened with iron clasps around 
my ankles; and at the middle it was fastened to the floor. Near 
where this chain is fastened is my bed, one of the newest style; a 
low one-horse bed. I can get into it without taking off my jewels. 
Though I sometimes take them off to see whether my host has still 
the same high regard for me, and is still as anxious to keep me as a 
boarder. But I always find him with the same warm attachment 
towards me; for no sooner does he discover that they are off than 
he sends for the blacksmith and puts them on again. On either side 
of my room is a comfortable, though somewhat picturesque, settee. 
These are for visitors, and for my night companions to sleep on. For 
my host, imagining that I was afraid to sleep alone, hired a man at a 
dollar and a half a night to sleep in my room with me, who is 
instructed to give the alarm if anybody should attempt to break in 
to drive me out, or steal me. So I can sleep with the greatest un¬ 
concern about my person or property. A fine furnace heats my 
room, which is set in the far end of it, so that I can by no possible 
accident fall against it, or burn myself. The floor is without carpet, 
for were there any, it would soon be soiled from the tobacco juice of 
the loafers who frequent the room. The walls are white as snow, 
except where it is ornamented by my drawings. One chair, without 
a back, is allowed me for my exclusive use. Two windows of the 
Gothic style let all the light I get into my room. These are orna¬ 
mented with perpendicular iron bars, about four inches apart. 
These are to prevent me from falling out, and breaking my neck. 
The room is about ten by eighteen feet. 

Now my readers, you have, or may have a clear idea of my quar¬ 
ters. Here it is where I am writing to you. In the next chapter I 
am going to begin the story of my eventful life. After you have 
read the whole, forget the part that you disapprove of and remember 
merely such parts as show me to have been a faithful friend, a clever 
fellow, and-then—pity me. 


ALBERT TEUFEL 


CHAPTER I. 

MY BIRTIL—A ROMANCE. 

I WAS born,—I don’t know where, nor when, nor of whom. My 
appearance in the theatre of life was not heralded by much 
shouting, except what I did myself, nor by the ringing of bells, or 
the firing of cannon. All I know about my birth is hearsay evi¬ 
dence, which, though it is not received in a court of justice, is gene¬ 
rally received the most greedily in the court of ^justice—the world. 
There are various theories about my coming into existence. Some 
say I have no father—that I am nulins films or filins populi. Others 
will have it that my true father is my reputed father. I don’t know 
which is which. I was called into existence so long ago that I don’t 
remember the authors of my being. But I will proceed to relate to 
you this remarkable occurrence from beginning to end to the best of 
my knowledge and belief, as the witnesses swear when they lie. 

In the north-western part of Germany, between the famous 
Rhine and the western extremity of the long, winding and sluggish 
Danube, lies the Grand Duchy of Baden, which is noted for its 
beautiful and fertile vineyards. Along the eastern boundary of the 
southern half extends Der Schwartze Walt , (the Black Forest), which 
is covered with evergreens of various kinds. It is called Schwartz on 
account of its deep, dark caves and dens in which it abounds. It 
consists of alternate hills and valleys. In the latter the villages and 
dwellings are built. The town of Baden is situated in the outskirts 
of the forest, and is noted for its warm baths, hence the name Baden, 
which signifies bathing or wading. This Grand Duchy has furnished 
its full share of heartless criminals and murderers to this State. 
It has given us Probst, Hodapp, and two others which I will not 
name, for they are both living. In this town of Baden lived a man 
*2 



10 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


by the name of C-. He was engaged in cultivating the grape 

and manufacturing wine during the summer season, and during the 
winter he would of course drink a good portion of it, while he was 
working in wood, making toys, which is the employment of most of 
the inhabitants. For some reason or other he was taken, forcibly 
and against his will, as a boarder in the public boardinghouse, which 
some of you here would call Fort Corcoran, or Fort something else. 
While here he fell in love with a beautiful, black-eyed dutch girl. 
Methinks I hear you say, “ Her, he married afterwards,” but you 
are mistaken, he did not, for he had his second wife already. After 
he was discharged he took his wife and emigrated to the United 
States of America. He arrived in Philadelphia early in 1844, 
rented a house and worked at—never mind, it is not material in 
this case. 

In Franklin Place, between Third and Fourth, and between 
Market and Chestnut, lived a family consisting of man and wife, by 

the name of T-. They were natives of Baden, Germany. They 

were once very rich, but from some cause or other, they became 
poor, and sought to recover their lost fortunes in America. They 
had no children. But, one cool, delightful morning in October, 
1844, as Chris was about to go out into the street, upon opening the 
front door he saw a large, old basket standing in front of him on the 
steps, apparently filled with clothes. A very strange feeling crept 
over him, as he perceived some slight movement of the clothes, 
something stirring under them. He called his wife before he touched 
the basket. 

“ My dear wife, what can this be ? What does it mean ?” said 
he, in great confusion, as she opened the door and set her eyes on 
the basket. 

u What’s in it ?” asked she, anxiously. 

“ I don’t know,” replied he. 

Women being always more curious than men, and less able to 
hide it, she went and pulled the clothes aside, when she uttered a 
little scream, as she beheld a tiny infant sleeping sweetly in that 
uncomfortable little bed. Chris stood there utterly confounded at 
this novel occurrence. 

“ Bring it into the house,” she says, “ it is too cold for the child 
out here.” 

Chris picked up the basket, and hastily carried it into the room. 
His wife took the little stranger out of the basket, and as she lifted 
him up in her arms, he opened his little, shiny black eyes, and in¬ 
nocently smiled as though he were in his mother’s arms. 

“ What is to be done with it ?” asked Chris feeling that he ought 
to say something. 

“ I don’t know what ? Where is it from ? Who brought the 
basket here ?” 

“ What do I know ? I know no more about it than do you,” 
replied Chris, blushing considerably ; but this was not noticed by his 




OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


11 


wife. He had some suspicion as to who put it there, and who might 
he its father and who its mother. 

“ See, the child is hungry,” said she, as she saw it move its lips 
as if nursing its mother. “ Go and bring some milk for it.” 

“ Is it a boy,” he asked, as he walked towards the door Having 
received an answer in the affirmative, he started for milk, thinking 
confoundedly over what had just occurred. He soon hailed a milk 
wagon. 

“ I want a little milk,” said he. 

u All right,” says the milkman. “ Where is your can ?” Now he 
found that in his deep study he had forgotten to take a vessel with 
him, so he hurried back to the house, making the milkman wait 
until he came back with a cream jug. While he was gone his wife 
thought, too. Soon the milk was brought in. Chris hurried off to 
his daily work, avoiding any further questions from his wife. She 
nursed the baby carefully, and by night she had already become 
somewhat attached to her unexpected present. When Chris came 
home in the evening, seeing his wife was in good humor, he asked 
how the little boy was thriving, and picked him up, looked in his 
black eyes, examined his features sharply, all of which, together 
with his black hair, convinced him;—he was satisfied. His wife 
came with milk to feed the boy. She took him and sat down near 
the stove in the rocking chair, and fed the greedy little fellow, at the 
same time critically examining the child’s features. 

“ It’s a pretty child,” she said, “but what shall we do with him ?” 

“Well, as it is a boy,” said he, “let us take good care.of him, 
and if no one comes to own him, let us adopt 'him as our child and 
heir. Perhaps it is a blessing of God sent to us in this mysterious 
way.” 

His wife was not altogether displeased with this novel idea; at 
least she made no objection to her husband’s proposition. The 
child was clad and fed, throve and grew like a young colt. In a few 
weeks he was taken to St. Peter’s church, and was christened. He 
was named Albert Teufel. 


CHAPTER II. 

MY YOUTHFUL AMUSEMENTS—MY FIRST IMPRISONMENT. 

M Y youth, that is, my early youth, for I am young yet, “ young 
in years, though old in crime,” was spent like that of other bad 
boys. I was allowed to run in the streets and select my companions 
and playmates. When I was five years old, we moved to German¬ 
town Road, between Second and St. John streets. Here I soon found 



12 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


playmates, with whom I engaged in all kinds of infant sports, partic¬ 
ularly that of playing at marbles. During the winter we would 
select some warm sunny spot, protected from the sharp wintry winds, 
and play at marbles. During the summer we would hunt a cool 
shady spot to indulge in our sports. Such a place was the yard in 
front of an old dutch weaver’s shop. Here we played day after day. 
If we got too noisy and quarrelsome, the old weaver would chase us 
out. This did not altogether suit us. The disagreeable noise made 
by the old dutchman, in the exercise of his lawful trade considerably 
annoyed us. So we concluded one day that if the old man would stop 
our noise, we would stop his. I volunteered to inform him of the 
conclusion we had arrived at, and our determination to carry it out. 

I walked into the door boldly and exclaimed in juvenile stentorian 
voice to the weaver, who was shooting the shuttle through the warp 
and pressing the threads with the loom, making a devil of a racket : 

“ Old man ! we want you to stop this noise and fuss in here, and if 
you don’t stop it right away, we’ll make you stop it.” Then I 
waited for a reply. The old weaver got up, picked up a stick, and 
before I could wheel about, he was-laying it on my back in good 
earnest I retreated in treble quick to the street. He made for the 
other little fellows who cursed him for hammering me, and said, 
“ Ye sassy little brats, ya, I’ll show yah who’s boss in here* Out of 
dis yard here, ye little wagabonts, ya !” These exclamations were 
accompanied with appropriate action as he stormed the yard ; the 
boys making awful faces and drawing their heads almost between 
their shoulders to protect them from the blows of the weaver, as they 
scampered out of the yard. We were taken altogether by surprise. 
But being pursued no further than to the street, we halted, and held 
a council of war. We concluded to attack the weaver from the 
street. So we commenced to fire stones in through the windows and 
door. The next thing we knew the policemen took charge of us, and 
put us into the station house. This was turning over a new leaf in 
my life. Locked up in the station house ! “ Will the old folks find 

this out ?” was my first thought, for if they would, I was sure of 
being in for another lashing. It was getting dark. After a few 
hours confinement and a crack over my posteriors, I was discharged. 
I went straight back to the weaver’s shop and broke some more panes 
and then ran home. After that I used to watch the old dutchman at 
night and if I could get a chance at him, stone him, making him run 
as fast as he did us. 

We moved to Morrisville, Bucks county, where my father com¬ 
menced boating. I assisted him sometimes by driving the team 
While living here, an old Swiss by the name of Heller, pursuaded 
my father to move to the city and go into the match business with 
him. Heller had invented a machine to cut matches. So we moved 
to Philadelphia again, to Twenty-fifth and Pine streets. The old 
man worked at the matches and I was sent to school. 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


13 


CHAPTER III. 

THE CLUBS OF YOUNG RUFFIANS—MY SECOND DOWNWARD STEP —- u THE CAVE.” 

O N my way to school I got in with a parcel of boys who tried to 
pursuade me to go with them instead of going to school. I, at 
first, refused; not because I did not desire to go with them, for I 
liked the society of the boys; my spirit longed to mingle with theirs 
in their rude sports; but 1 knew that my parents would not allow me 
to run with them under any circumstances, if they were aware of it; 
and I was, as yet, afraid to undertake to deceive them by playing 
truant. But the thrashings I got from these boys every time I re¬ 
fused to go with them, had a tendency to strengthen my courage, and 
the fights I had with them, were preparetory lessons to entering their 
school. I liked these fights, though I was often beaten blue, so I 
rather courted their company than avoided it. The more they 
thrashed me, the more I desired to go with them. After going to 
school about three weeks, I promised the boys I would go with them. 
I started off to school every morning, but did not go there. My 
parents thought I was attending school regularly. I joined the boys; 
went around town with them, doing all kinds of mischief. This was 
my second step down the road of perdition. 

The boys were organized into clubs; each club having its name 
and a “ bully ” for a leader. The club to which I belonged was 
called “ The Schuylkill Rangers/'* I was nick-named, “ Gallows.” 
Why I was thus christened I know not. All the boys had nick-names. 
I was about nine years old at this time. There were boys in our club 
from the age of five years to twenty-five and thirty. We were nearly 
three hundred strong. There were also other clubs, some larger and 
some smaller than ours The principal among these were, The Vil¬ 
lage Boys, The Blood Hounds, The Grey Hounds, The Badgers; 
and across the river were The Alms-House Bummers, The Skinners, 
The Bed-bugs, etc. After I joined the Rangers I commenced to stay 
out late at nights. Fighting with other clubs, breaking windows, 
knocking at the doors of houses, fooling the inmates, and doing all 
kinds of mischief, such as God-forsaken wretches like we, only could 
have thought of, was our nightly employment. I soon became recon¬ 
ciled to the new order of things I readily inhaled the wicked atmos¬ 
phere around me. In a few days my disposition was the same as 
those of my fellows. I delighted in their brawls and fights, their 
sports and tricks. In short, when I was with them I was happy, no 
matter how roughly I was used. I improved fast. I distinguished 
myself in battle; was cunning in devising underhand schemes to 
impose upon others. How rapidly Satan teaches his pupils. 

One night I was invited to go with the boys to the head-quarters 


14 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


of the friendly clubs. We walked down to South street, thence back 
to the Marine’s grave yard. As we came to the bank, a few big 
fellows, stepped forward, stooped down and lifted up, as it appeared 
to me, a large square piece of sod. But on closer view, I found it 
to be a wooden door covered with thick sod. Down we went into 
the earth, on a flight of steps, and landed in a beautiful large room, 
about twenty feet wide, and thirty-six feet long. The walls were nicely 
papered ; a large chandelier suspended from the ceiling. The room 
was nicely furnished with sofas, chairs, tables, and stove. Banjos 
and fiddles were lying about. Cards were spread on the tables. This 
room was known among the boys as “ The Cave.” It was dug out by 
the different clubs. The lumber with which the walls and ceiling 
were boarded was taken from Lovett’s lumber yard, which was not 
very far off. Several skulls were suspended from the ceiling. These 
were found at the time the boys were digging out the cave. This 
cave was an entire secret among us, and we were all pledged to keep 
it such. That night we had a glorious time. Whiskey and lager 
be’er were there in abundance. Quite a number of girls were in the 
cave. I imbibed rather freely of the liquor, and soon the room and 
everything began to move around, my eyes became unsteady, my 
limbs grew weak; I reclined on the sofa. The next thing I knew 
1 found myself lying in front of my father’s door. I had been car¬ 
ried or dragged home, I don’t know which. This was my first 
drunken spree. The next morning I had a hearing before the old 
folks. I told them I was out with the boys, who made me drunk. 
This explanation seemed to be satisfactory, and after giving me “ a 
thundering licking,” the matter ended. 

Sometimes I would go with my father to haul matches away. We 
used to take them to John Shick’s match manufactory, up«in St. 
John’s street. After the matches were unloaded, 1 asked permis¬ 
sion to take the team home. It was granted. I took the mule and 
wagon, drove down the street, took in three of my cousins, who were 
every bit as devilish as myself. Each of us had a club, with which 
we hammered the old mule, and run him as hard as we could, sing¬ 
ing out, 11 G-o along, old Dalton !” We almost run the old fellow to 
death. We went a kiting down Union street to Front, down Front 
to Dock, up Dock to Second, up Second to Union again, making this 
round a dozen times before I went home. While the Swiss and 
father were getting another lot ready, I was with the Rangers. We 
had stone fights every day. The leaders of the hostile clubs would 
go out and parley with each other until they got to fighting. The 
first blow either struck was the signal for all'to “ pitch in.” The 
fight sometimes waged very hot, with stones and clubs, until some 
one was injured badly, or until either party fled. A great part of 
the time we lay around the cave, and our mischievous propensities 
were so great, that no stray dog, cat, goat, duck or goose, that came 
near our quarters, would escape being made a sacrifice to our satanic 
amusements. No sooner did we espy any of these domestics unpro- 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


15 


tected, than a volley of stones was fired at them until they were crip¬ 
pled, when if a duck or goose, it was killed and taken to “ the cave,” 
if a goat, it was taken to the lime kiln and burned; if a dog or cat, 
it wa$ court-martialed and sentenced either to be beheaded or hanged 
by the neck until dead, and its corpse buried into a watery grave 
in the limpid Schuylkill. We were often arrested by policemen, who 
always took us home instead of to the station house. 


CHAPTER IV. 

COMMENCED BOATING. 

I USED to get a great deal of money from my mother, and from 
the old Swiss. I saved every cent. I was a great favorite of old 
Roach, who kept a candy shop. He used to give me candy; but I 
came too often, and when he would not give me any, Pd buy some on 
tick. I had gathered together about fifty dollars; much of this 
amount consisted of stray pieces that I found about the house, which 
I poked into my pocket. 

One fine morning in October, 1854, I took it into my head to run 
away. I went to Easton ; hired with a boatman at ten dollars a month. 
Nothing unusual occurred during the two months we boated I 
stayed during the winter at four dollars a month. In the spring 
when the the water was let into the canal we commenced boating 
again. After we had boated one month, I got tired; I made up my 
mind to have a change. I asked my employer for a settlement, and 
told him I wanted to send the money home. When night came, we 
stopped; had the mules fed; pumped the water out of the boat; 
took our supper, then I was paid. I then had ninety-six dollars with 
me. This, you may think, was a large sum for such a little shaver 
to carry; but before I was much older, you will find I handled much 
larger sums. We went to bed. When the old fellow got fast asleep 
I got quietly up, dressed, and run away. After I got away a 
safe distance, I halted, and for the first time found that I had no 
definite object in view, for I did not know whither I was going, nor 
what I should do with all this money. At last I concluded to go to 
Philadelphia and have a gay old time with it. But when I got to 
the city, a new idea struck me. “ Why shall I spend this money 
foolishly?” thought I. So I conduded to buy a team and go boat¬ 
ing on my own hook. I went to Front and Callowhill to pay a visit 
to some of the fair members of our club, who sometimes waited on us 
in the cave. Next morning, being Saturday, I went out to Spring 
Garden to the horse market. There I met Dan. Barker, who was 
selling horses at auction sales. I was well acqnainted with him. When 



16 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


he saw me he said, “ Halloo ! Gallows! Is that you! Where have 
you been so long ?” 

“ I have been on the canal,” said I, in a cool, dignified manner. 

“ You will be on the canal too when you get home,” said he. 

“ I guess not,” replied I, unconcernedly. 

“ Where are you going ?” 

“ I’m going up the canal again as soon as I have bought a horse.” 

“ Bought a horse ! Going into business, hey ? Spidie, you’d bet¬ 
ter go with Gallows; he’s going into business.” 

Spider was a nick-name for his son, who was an intimate acquaint¬ 
ance of mine. I told Barker I wanted to buy a cheap horse, but a 
good one. 

“ Spider,” says he, “ go and see if there is any low priced horses, 
good ones.” Soon Spider called me and said : “ Gallows, here is 

a staving old mare, she will do as long as you want her.” I ex¬ 
amined her critically. 

“She will do if she is not too high priced,” said I to Spider. 

“ Go to the old man” said he, “ I’ll fix it all right.” 

I bought the mare for ten dollars—took her up to the Black Horse 
Hotel, in Second Street. She was a bony old thing. “ How will I 
get her up to Bethlehem,” was my next question. I ordered her to 
be well fed. On Sunday morning I mounted her and rode off to¬ 
wards Bethlehem It was a lonely and tiresome ride. The sharp, 
bony back of the old cretur’ gave some diversion to my meditations 
along the road; for it was impossible for me to sit up square on her 
back any length of time. So I cast my weight from one side to the 
other as I got tired sitting in one position. I stopped at a tavern 
about half way between Philadelphia and Doylestown and watered 
her, and whiskeyed myself. When I was about to start I led the old 
mare to one of those patent chain-pumps that were lying about there. 
When I was about to mount, the old thing commenced to kick like 
h—1. There were several loafers standing around who seemed to 
have been much amused at me, and my Bosinante. At last I succeeded 
in mounting her. I was very much provoked by this time, so I 
struck my heels into her side until she began to trot. But such a 
bouncing as I got! I felt as if I was about to be split in two. I 
put her into a walk again as soon as I could. I reached Kulp’s 
hotel, in Doylestown, late in the evening, dismounted and ordered 
my horse to be put into the stable and fed. When I walked into 
the tavern I felt as if the bony old thing was still between my legs. 
I sat down, but soon my seat became very hot. In short, I was 
awful sore. On Monday morning, I mounted my Bosinante, and 

wearily journeyed on to Bethlehem. . I went to old Paddy B-, 

whom I knew well, but who did not know me. I asked him for a 
boat. 

“ You want a boat!” said he, in great surprise. “ And sure, what 
d 'you want wid a boat ?” 

“ I want to boat on the canal.” 



OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


17 


“ And sure, you’re too small • I cant give you a boat.” 

“ Then keep it,” said I, “ if you won’t give me any. I can boat 
as well as any man.”. 

u What is yer name, sonny ? Where d’you b’long ?” 

“ My name is Albert Teufel, sir.” 

“ Why, the Lord bless you, ‘ you ain’t Christian’s son V ” 

“ I am, sir.” 

“ Why, my son, I’ll give you any boat I got in my yar-rd. I’ll give 
them all to ye if you want them.” 

I picked out one to suit me, and Paddy gave me rigging, grub, and 
everything necessary to fit me out. Next morning I harnessed up 
the mare and hitched her to the boat,—stretched her up, but— 
wh-wh-ee !—such kicking ! Grot her straight on the tow-path and 
tried it again. Up she went again in the rear, and kicked like fury. 
I took her over into the stable again, and was going to trade her off. 

“ And what is the matter, sonny ?” said Paddy, “ won’t she pull ?” 
“ No, sir, but she kicks like damnation.” I replied angrily. “ Well 
my boy, I’ve got an old mule here in the stable which I'll sell you 
cheap You may have him, harness and all, for seventy-five dollars. 
And you can pay me whenever it suits you.” 

I would always take any thing I could get on tick; so I took the 
mule. I hooked both mare and mule to the boat ) the mare behind 
the mule. When all was ready, I put the whip on the mule. He 
marched off like a well trained soldier, never looking back. The mare 
tried her old game again, but of no use. The muie was bound to make 
everything come that was behind him; so he dragged the mare along. 
The old mare found that it was hard for her to “kick against the 
pricks.” She therefore stopped and followed the example ef the faith¬ 
ful long-ear walking in front of her. She was completely broke after 
I drove her thus two days and a night without feeding her. I then 
changed them about, putting the mare ahead. I now had as good a 
team as there was one oa the canal. I was then boating from Mauch 
Chunk to New York. I made three or four trips, during which time 
my mischievous disposition would manifest itself sometimes in practical 
jokes. For, at night, when a number of boats got together at a lock 
waiting to get through, I used to cut the harness off their mules; 
cut up the belly bands, and the tow lines and throw them into the 
canal, so as to detain them in the morning, and enable me to out-lock 
them and get ahead. I was the smallest boy on the canal, and an un¬ 
usually small captain, which the following incidents will verify : 

fhe first time I came to New York to draw my freight, I went up to 
the coal merchant, and offered him my receipt. He looked at me very 
suspiciously and asked me where I had got that receipt. 

u Down the wharf,” I told him. “ I want that money, if you 
please.” 

“ Want the money, eh ? You wait 'til you get it I suppose—you 
stole that receipt, you little rouge.” 


18 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


“ I did—eh?” said I, and started off to a lawyer’s office. I gave a 
lawyer ten dollars and took him along back to the merchant. 

“ Let this man see that receipt,” said I. “This is my receipt for 
freight,” said I to the lawyer. “I am the captain of that boat; I 
wan’t you to collect that receipt and twenty-five dollars damages for 
detaining me, also those ten dollars I paid you.” 

After delivering this speech 1 went to my boat. When 1 came back 
the next time, the lawyer had my freight and thirty-five dollars beside. 
Yly freight was always promptly paid after that. 

At another time in Jersey City wharf, my boat was detained over 
the appointed time, and I presented my claim for demurrage. The 
merchant would not pay it on the ground that he did not belive that I 
was the captain of the boat; that 1 was too small. 

“ I am the captain of that boat, sir, and I wan’t my demurrage,” 
said I, “ and if you won t pay it I’ll make you pay,” and walked away. 
The New York coal merchant who just then happened to be present, 
heard our conversation 

“ Now, sir,” said he to the Jersey City man. “ you’ll pay that fellow 
twenty-five or thirty dollars more than is due him.” 

“ How so, sir,” asked the Jersey City man. 

“ Because that saucy little brat is captain of that boat. I was de¬ 
ceived in the same way, and refused to pay him bis freight; he 
employed a lawyer who compelled me to pay it and thirty-five dollars 
damages for detaining him. He is looking for a lawyer’s office now.” 

This alarmed the fellow, hie came running after me, asked me to 
come back and began to apologize. I told him if he would pay me ten 
dollars extra I would go back and take the pay. This he did not like 
to do 

“If you won’t pay me that,” said I, “you’ll pay me more,” and 
turned around. 

“ Come along, sir,” said he, “ I’ll pay you.” 

When we came back, the New York man laughed, but when he saw 
that I got only ten dollars extra he said : “ You little rascal made me 

pay thirty five dollars extra, why did you not put it on this fellow, 
too ?” 

“ Will you take me as the captain of that boat after this ?” said I, 
as I looked at them a little lynx-eyed, poking the money into my 
pocket. 

“ We’ll know you after this,” said the Jersey City man. 

I went to my boat. Whenever I came into his wharf after that he 
would have my boat unloaded first and sent me off as quickly as he 
could. 

When I stopped boating, I had my team clear and three hundred 
and twenty dollars beside. I gave my team to a farmer to keep for me 
until spring. When I got to Philadelphia I bought a new suit of 
clothes. Black cloth coat, pantaloons and vest; kid leather boots, 
golden studs, a watch and finger rings, constituted my new parapher¬ 
nalia. I also bought a stove-pipe hat which made me look very odd. 


OP ALBERT TEUFEL. 


19 


I dressed up and went to u The Cave/ 7 There were upwards of fifty 
boys and more than a dozen girls in the room when I came in. I 
fetched a gallon of whiskey ; soon sent for another; then for a keg of 
lager beer. We drank, played cards, danced and had a good time 
generally. Soon my head got rather heavy again. I thought there 
were a thousand, people in the room. I became unable to navigate. 
Two of the larger boys took me home. 

The old folks got up, and welcomed their prodigal son by giving him 
a most universal thrashing. 

“ Where have you been so long’ 7 asked the old man. 

“I wa*wa-was travellin 7 with an o-o-old h’Englishman, 77 said I, my 
tongue being very unmanageable. 

“ Did he give you any money ? 77 

u N—o, sir, 77 he will be 'round toto-morrow, and pay me. 77 

“ Where did you get the money to get drunk, then ? 77 

u The boys made me drunk. 77 

I was afraid if they would find out I had so much money they would 
take it from me. 1 was put to bed. After I sobered up a little, I 
got up and crept out through the window and went back to “ The 
Cave, 77 where T stayed until morning. We had a jolly old time. 
Next day I went to a rich old acquaintance and gave him two hundred 
dollars of my money to keep for me until spring. Then I went back 
to the Rangers and participated in their fights. I became so rough 
and courageous that I was made leader of tl^e club. I boarded at 
u The Cave. 77 Many boarded and lodged here for weeks at a time. 
The girls kept house for us. Whole barrels of flour were brought in 
by the boys. We never asked where they got them. We always 
had plenty of fresh meat, ham, and poultry. Anything, in short, that 
our appetites craved, was obtained somehow. I frequented this cave 
at intervals until it was destroyed in 1861 by the gravel diggers, who 
dag into it. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE VOYAGE TO LIVERPOOL. 

6 6 ~TT ARIETY is the spice of life, 77 is an very common expression, but 
V no less common than true. For it was certainly the salt of my 
life. I was as restless as the “ Wandering Jew. 77 A desire for change 
of life, change of surrounding circumstances, and a desire for new 
acquaintances was a part of my nature. The other no less trite motto, 
“ the rolling stone gathers no moss, 77 is not so true, however, for I 
was certainly a rolling stone in the true sense of the proverb, yet, I 
gathered much moss, but didn’t keep it. The continual rolling wore 



20 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


it off again. But I'm getting off my text, ain’t I ? Let me see ;— 
where is the end of my string? Ah ! yes, now I’ve got it. 

Well, after getting tired of the monotonous life at the cave, I con¬ 
cluded to get employment on a ship and traverse the “ deep and dark 
blue ocean.” 1 went on board the Tonawanda, in the capacity of 
steerage boy. I was now about twelve years old. 

The Tonawanda is a merchant ship—full rigged, containing three 
masts, which are called, respectively, the fore-mast, the main-mast, 
and the mizzen or after-mast. Each mast had five sails, to wit: the 
course, top-sail, top-gallant-sail, royal, and sky-sail. Those of each 
mast are distinguished by the words fore, main, and mizzen being 
prefixed to the above names, thus: the fore course, main-course, and 
mizzen-course, fore-top sail, main-top sail and mizzen-top sail, &c. 

My duty was to attend to the mizzen royal, which is the next to the 
highest sail on the mizzen mast. 

Off sailed the ship—plowing up the blue waters of the Atlantic— 
bound for Liverpool. I was exceedingly delighted with my new 
berth, as I stood and viewed the broad bosom of the boundless ocean. 
But soon the captain came along and said in a gruff, commanding 
tone:— 

“Boy, go and tar that cable; now see that you do it well.” 

This was not a very tempting task, but to work I went, and tarred 
the confounded thing thoroughly. My business was to do all kinds 
of dirty work on deck. After I had finished the cable, 1 was put to 
splicing old braces. Then I went up the mizzen-mast with the mate 
to learn to furl the mizzen-royal. I could not near keep up with the 
mate, for he run up the rigging—which consists of a rope ladder— 
like lightning; but I soon learned to go up faster, for after this I had 
to go ahead and keep out of the way of those who followed me. 
Sometimes I would miss a step and slip, when I was pounded by the 
mate behind me until I got out of his way. Many a time my shins 
were all raw. 

Ere long a heavy storm was approaching. I was sent up to furl 
the mizzen-royal The wind hissed and whistled through the masts 
and ropes; the sails were flying up and flapping dreadfully. I run 
up part way, then I became frightened. I looked down and directly 
below me were the raging waves. I stopped. 

“ G-o on,” cried the captain. 

I went on a few steps, thinking every minute the wind would blow 
me off, into the sea. I stopped again. 

“Ain’t you going up ?” roared the captain from below,—picking up 
a plane-pin and hurling it at me, very nearly hitting me. I started 
again,—such a pulling and flapping of the sails ! I stopped once 
more and looked down pitifully. 

“ Go up, you d—d little rogue,” thundered the captain again. 
Then I heard him say to the mate, “ G-o up and knock him down if 
he won’t furl the sail.” 

The mate made for me ; but when I saw him come in good earnest 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


21 


to execute the captain's command, I took courage, desperately, and 
scampered up to the mizzen-royal yard, thinking that I would prefer 
to risk being blowed off into the sea than to be kndcked off by the 
mate. I held on to the yard with one hand and tried to furl the 
royal with the other, but no go :—it was too heavy and the wind was 
too strong. At last I run out on the foot rope,—leaned over the yard 
and began to haul in the sail with both hands,—the wind blowing all 
the time furiously. I had partly forgotten the danger I was in. After 
I had the sail furled nicely, I hurried down upon the deck. The 
captain looked up and said :— 

“ That’s well done, my boy; why the devil did you stop so often?” 

u I was afraid,” said I.” 

“ If you cut up them capers again,” said he, 11 you’ll be knocked 
overboard.” 

I looked into the angry waves as they were dashing against the vessel, 
sometimes breaking in over the deck—and shuddered as I thought of 
the last remark of the captain. 

This was the heaviest gale we had during that trip. Nothing unusual 
occurred until we reached Liverpool. 

After we arrived at Liverpool I got seventeen shillings for my wages. 
I worked on deck and about the wharf for some days, when hearing 
the men talk so much about their beautiful sweethearts in town, I 
became desirous of seeing the charming creatures. I soon made the 
acquaintance of a young man who “ took me round” and introduced me 
to a fine little girl about fourteen years of age. She had a most 
beautiful form. Her heavy black hair first attracted my attention. 
They were beautiful. Her complexion was very white, except her 
cheeks which were of rosy tint. Her arms were round and somewhat 
fleshy. Her eyes were black, and when she looked straight at me with 
her pleasant smile, I was perfectly charmed. Her parents were ia good 
circumstances. During our stay I paid her visits frequently, took her 
to the amusements at night. Before I knew what ailed me I was over 
head and ears in love with her;—so much so, that I could not think of 
leaving Liverpool. So one morning shortly before the boat was to sail 
again, I got up about half an hour earlier than the others, went to the 
guard and told him I had no pass but wanted to go and get my boots 
that I had taken the evening before to the shoemaker to get mended, 
before the men would go to work. He let me pass. That was the last 
they saw of me. I skedaddled. After I heard that the ship had left 
I came back. I found that my purse was giving out and that I had to 
devise some means of replenishing it. I went to the American consul 
and told him that I had come over on the ship Tonawanda and was left, 
without money and without clothes. He cross-questioned me pretty 
severely and I thought he had some suspicion that I had run away, 
for my captain had the town pretty well scoured for me, and detained 
his ship in the harbor a few days longer than he had intended, with the 
vain hope of catching me. The consul intimated nothing however, but 
sent me to the tailor to get a suit of clothes measured, and procured a 


22 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


boarding place for me. I boarded about two days, then I concluded to 
try a new experiment. There was a recruiting office near my bead- 
quarters. I walked in and told the officer I wanted to enlist as drum¬ 
mer boy. 

“ All right,” said he. He took my name and a very close 
description of my person; then he sent me to the barracks; but first 
paying me a shilling as earnest money. The next day I was paid five 
pounds, which amount was customarily paid in advance. This sum 
gratified the hunger.of my ravenous purse to some extent. I thought 
of my sweet Mary. Her image was now continually harassing my 
mind, until I determined to go and pay her a friendly visit. I 
deserted;—went to my boarding place and in the evening I took my 
little angel to the theatre. I made this money so easily and succeeded 
so well with my new experiment that I was tempted to try it again. 
In a few days I went to another recruiting office and enlisted again as 
drummer boy. But this time I came very near being shipped off; for 
before I had been enlisted two days, it was reported that our company 
was to set sail next day. This made me prick up my ears ; I at once 
set my wits to work to devise some plan to escape. The next morning 
little Teufel was non est. I was free once more, but was dreadfully 
scared. After that I would not go near a recruiting office ; but kept 
myself in the dark for a few days. At last, I went to my boarding 
place where I found an order from the American consul to go on board 
the ship Tuscarora, which was running on the same line with the 
Tonawanda. I went to see Mary and persuaded her to go with me. 
She said she could not get off, for her parents would not allow her to 
go. “ Never mind that,” said I, “ if you consent to go with me IT1 
fix it all right with your parents.” 

How do you think I fixed it ? Do you think I went to them, and 
fell on my knees and begged them to let their beloved daughter go with 
me to America ? No, sir, you would not catch me doing such a foolish 
thing as that. I got her off in a more summary manner. 

“ Get your clothes ready, secretly,” said I to her, “only such as you 
will need the most;—when we get to America I have plenty of money, 
and I'll see that you get clothes.” 

“ How will I get them out of the house?” she asked, brightening up 
“ will you help me ?” 

“ Of course, I will. To-morrow at four o' clock in the morning you 
have everything ready, I’ll be at your house at the back parlor window. 
You come down quietly, and off we’ll go.” 

“I fear I will be discovered.” 

‘ Bosh ! never fear. I’ll take you to my boarding place and in a 
few hours we’ll set sail for America on board the Tuscarora; then let 
them hunt for you. Hal-de diddle-um-e-da !” I began to sing for 
joy; for I felt as if my prize was already secured. “Be punctual 
now ; four o’clock, remember.” 

I left after lovingly kissing her good-night. The next day I made 
arrangements with the captain of the Tuscarora. The consul took me 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


23 


and introduced me to the captain by saying : u Here is your man.” 

“ Ah—hah !” said the captain, “ you run off, you little scamp 
didn't you?” 

I protested against the charge, and asserted my innocence. When 
I began to tell him my story he interrupted me, saying: “ 0., you 

can’t shut up my eye, I have heard such stories before.” 

I began to be afraid, thinking I was caught, and that my plan with 
Mary would surely miscarry. 

u I want to hire on your ship, captain,” said I, hoping to put anew 
phase upon the whole affair. 

“ In what capacity, sir.” 

u As ordinary seaman, sir.” 

“ As ordinary seaman—eh ! Do you know anything about sailing V ’ 

“ I do, sir.” 

Then after examining me for a few minutes he said I would do. 
“ I am all right now,” thought I. At four o'clock next morning I was 
at the appointed spot. Mary was there too, ready, and waiting 
patiently. 

u I was afraid you would not come,” she whispered as I took her 
clothes out of the window. She followed ; but don't think that I did 
not help her out. I was even then polite enough not to forego such a 
treat. 

I paid her passage and took her on board the Tuscarora. “ What a 
splendid success !” said I to Mary as the ship sailed out of the harbor. 
She looked at me and smiled. Ah ! that lovely smile,—I see it yet. 

We encountered a very heavy gale, after we had been sailing for a 
few days without anything extraordinary happening. This was the 
severest storm I ever beheld. Black, heavy clouds arose above the 
horizon, and hung threateningly over the sea. The sails were all 
furled ; the captain and all the mates stood on deck, calmly awaiting 
the shock. < )n moved the clouds. Soon there was a little skirmish¬ 
ing. The ship rocked violently; the storm was upon us. The waves 
rolled up like mountains and dashed against the ship. 11 Look out! 
there comes a rouser ” some one cried. On he came. The passengers 
were making a terrible racket below—some were crying, others saying 
their prayers. Bang !—the breaker struck the side of the ship, 
knocked the bullwarks in,—smashed the quarter deck boat all to 
splinters, —the pieces flew in all directions,—the lashes of the hog 
pen were broken, the hog pen washed overboard with three hogs in. 
“ Good-bye, hogs—a safe, voyage,” cooly cried the captain. They 
disappeared. The chicken and duck coops got loose ; “ quack ! quack 1 
quack !” went the ducks ; the chickens cackled and screamed. Some 
had their heads mashed. All pitched in and carried the fowls into the 
cabin. The storm subsided,—the fuss was over. The passengers 
rejoiced. 

After the storm was over all hands went to work to repair the 
damage it had done. I was ordered to bring the ducks and chickens 
on deck again. Down I went in search for poultry. The frightened 


24 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


creatures hid themselves in every corner, and were as quiet as death 
It being dark I was unable to find them all. I carried up as many as 
I was able to find and put them into their coops again Soon the 
captain came along and asked me whether I had brought all the 
chickens up. I told him I did. 

“ Here/' said he, taking me by the coat collar and leading me to 
the cabin door, u d’ you hear that ?” 

I did hear an old rooster down below go, “cack—cack—cack— 
cack !” 

“ Now go and bring up that rooster.” 

I fetched him up in double-quick. After a little while the captain 
came along again and said gruffly : 

“ Have you got all those chickens up now ?” 

“ Yes, sir,” said I 

“ Go and bring me that rope there.” 

I brought a piece of brace that was lying on deck—about an inch 
thick and about three feet long He took it and licked me like 
thunder. 

“ Now go down and see if you can find any more,” said he. 

I went down, hunted around and found two more, brought them 
up and put them into the coop. But, damn them, I didn’t get them 
all this time, and I got the second licking. I now began to wish for 
home. Sailor’s life was rather too severe a life for me. 


CHAPTER VI. 

BOATING AGAIN. 

W HEN we arrived at Philadelphia I got a boarding place for 
Mary, and then I went to my old friend for my two hundred 
dollars. Iu April I commenced boating again. What do you think 
1 did with my little sweet-heart? Why I took her on my boat, to 
cook for me; and an excellent cook she was, too. What a happy 
little couple we were ! She stayed on my boat for about three months, 
then she told me she was tired of this way of living, but that she was 
not by any means tired of me. She loved me more fervently 
the longer she was with me. I, on the contrary, loved her less. She 
perceived this, and tried to regain my affections with all the arts and 
pretty devises which her sex only knows how to bring to bear on the 
stronger vessel. But the more she tried, the less did she succeed. At 
last, she came right down to dots and proposed to marry me. This 
brought things to a crisis. What was I to do ? I was not yet thir¬ 
teen years of age. She, not fifteen. I reminded her of our tender 
years, and urged that we were much too young to enter the matrimonial 



OP ALBERT TEUFEL. 


25 


state. She thought differently, and from henceforth we disagreed,— 
had quarrels, and at last she left me alone in my glory. I never saw 
her afterwards. 

Well, my cook was gone. I missed her much. What a change 
her absence made to me ! I felt as if the whole world had left me; 
for she was a great comfort to me, making everything look bright and 
gay wherever she was. The very thought of her made my labors 
easy. But, now she was gone. I boated on for a few weeks, when I 
became so lonely, and got so tired of cooking for myself, that I concluded 
to hire a cook. I soon found one, a splendid girl. I paid her two 
dollars a week. But little did I anticipate the trouble she made me. 
For no sooner did the other boatmen discover that I had a cook than 
they tried to make love to her. As soon as we stopped at night there 
were five or six boatmen hanging around mv boat desirous of obtain¬ 
ing admission into my boat. I became very jealous, and threatened 
to kill every d—d son of a b—h that would dare enter my boat with¬ 
out my permission. They, however, continued to annoy me exceed¬ 
ingly by lounging around my boat, looking as hungry as a half-starved 
dog. I, at last, determined to execute my threats, and shot one fellow 
in the leg, which cooled off his passions, and scattered the rest in 
every direction. My cook and myself were left in peace after that, 
for the sons of Mars feared lest I would hurt some more of them. I 
boated on until December thirteenth, 1856. 


i 


CHAPTER YIT. 

JOURNEY TO THE WEST—GOT MARRIED—DESERTION—GAMBLING—ARREST AT 
ST. JOSEPH—THE RIDE INTO THE COUNTRY—ARREST AT CHICAGO—ARREST 
IN WASHINGTON—ADVENTURE IN NEW YORK. 

W HEN I stopped boating in the winter of ; 56 I had over five 
hundred dollars of my own money. I resolved to go on a 
journey to the West, and spend the winter and my money by 
travelling about and seeing a little more of the world. I started at 
New York and stopped nowhere until I arrived at St. Louis, Missouri. 
Here I stayed until Spring. I soon got acquainted with a party of 
roughs and gamblers. I always had remarkable success in gambling, 
never coming out with my purse lighter than it was when I entered. 
The indispensable accompaniment of gambling is drinking. 

Drinking, gambling, fighting, going to to theatres, and-, were 

my pastimes at St. Louis. During a scuffle with a bar-keeper I was 
stabbed in my face. The scar on my left cheek still bears evidence of 
the contest. 

As I was promenading on the pavement one day, I passed a girl, 

3 




26 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


who I thought very much resembled my sweet little Mary, with whom 
I eloped from Liverpool. I crossed over to the other side of the 
street and followed her, to see where she would stop. SeeiDg her 
enter a house next door to the residence of an intimate male friend of 
mine, I turned about and said to myself: “ Good, I’ll find out who 
you are.” The next time I met my friend, I made inquiries about the 
girl, and was exceedingly delighted at his offer to give me an intro¬ 
duction to her, as he was a frequent visitor at her house. It was not 
long before I reminded this fellow of his promise. He fulfilled it, 
for he took me to her house, after giving her due notice of his inten¬ 
tion to bring a nice young man there, who had met her in the street 
one day and desired to become acquainted with her, he being the son 
of a rich New York merchant. Now that I had a full view of her 
symmetrical person, her thick auburn hair, her dark flashing eyes, 
her beautiful expression, and heard her laugh and talk, my passion for 
her became so violent that I could hardly control myself. The evening 
was spent very pleasantly, and at our departure, she graciously invited 
me to “call again.” I smiled as pleasantly as I could,— thanked her 
with a low bow and left, greatly delighted with our visit. Soon after 
that I did “ call again —but this time by myself. I took her to 
the theatre. She was truly a pretty girl—only about fifteen years old, 
I was fiercely in love with her, and often wished she would make the 
same proposal to me that Mary did, and then I would put no obstacles 
in the way of a speedy coupling. I visited her frequently for about 
two weeks, during which time I often took her out riding. At last I 
mustered [up courage and—“popped the question,” and to my 
exceedingly agreeable surprise, she consented. Her parents had no 
serious objections, either. So we two, were made one. We spent our 
honey-moon[ riding about out into the country ; sometimes on horse¬ 
back, and at other times in hacks. In the evening we went to balls 
and other amusements. 

For a little while we lived very happily together. But soon I fell 
into my old habits again. After taking my young wife home (being 
myself younger, though) from evening parties, I began to go out 
again and stay until near morning, drinking and gambling, and 
often coming home drunk. My wife’s parents soon lost all respect for 
me, and remonstrated with me, but of no avail. I could not be 
reformed now, for I was still Albert Teufel, and could be nothing else. 

One evening I told my wife I had to goto Memphis, Tennessee, the 
next day, on business, but would be back again in a few days. I left, 
and have not seen her since. This was wife No. 1. 

From St. Louis I went to St. Joseph. Here I spoited around a few 
days, following the same business very much that I did at St. Louis. 
One night we got up a drunken row, when the police came and arrested 
us, and marched us off to the lock-up. But before I was locked up I 
knocked my policeman down and ran off The next morning I started 
for the Highlands, in Kansas. Here I got into a little fuss with a 
bar-tender— throwed a tumbler at his head and cleared out. I next 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


27 


went to Forrest City, whore I stayed a day, then proceeded to Oregon, 
a small town about two miles from Forrest City. I then returned to 
Hannibal, Missouri, where I stopped but a few hours, —then took the 
next train to Quincy. Here I stopped about ten days; soon fell in 
love with one of the charming creatures, who, after visiting her every 
night for about a week, proposed to me; but not feeling inclined to go 
through the ceremony so soon again, I left, and journeyed to Chicago. 
At this place I first got acquanted with Oscar Burnell, the man whom 
I was very anxious to have for a witness at my trial, but was refused 
time to procure him on the ground that he was a fiction. More of this 
anon. 

I was not here long before Burnell and I were arrested late at night 
and put into the station house. In the morning, after paying a fine 
of five dollars, we were discharged. We hired an open hack with two 
horses hitched to it, and gave our girls a ride into the country. We 
stopped a little too often to water our horses; for we all got so drunk, 
girls too, that none of us was fit to drive. The horses got scared and 
run away, upset the hack, broke it to pieces, and emptied us all out 
into the mud on top of each other. The horses were stopped, but we 
were’obliged to walk into town with our dirty clothes, the girls’ dresses 
being, also, torn shamefully. We must have looked awful; for as 
soon as we got into town the whole party of us was arrested and 
locked up. Theglivery man claimed three hundred dollars damages, 
but I do not suppose that he was ever paid, for I know that 1 did not 
pay him. When we were liberated, I bade “ good bye” to Chicago. 
I took the cars to Cincinnati, where I got into a muss and had to leave 
with the next train. I stopped at Columbus; looked around—did 
not like the atmosphere; so I proceeded to Pittsburg. I arrived 
here about eight o’clock in the evening. I walked out to see if I could 
find some one to take me home and give me lodging. I first went to 
the opera house; finding no one there, I went to the Suspension 
bridge. I slowly walked in until I was about half way through the 
bridge, when something pulled me by the coat-tail I turned around, 
and what do you think it was ? It was what I was looking for. I 
was taken to a fine mansion, where I got my lodging, but I did not 
sleep a great deal. After spending a few days at Pittsburg, I got into 
another difficulty, which induced me to hasten on to Washington. It 
was late at night when I arrived in this virtuous (?) city. I walked 
up Pennsylvania Avenue, stopped every few steps and looked around. 
Soon a policeman walked up to me and asked me what I was hunting. 

“ Nothing,” says I. “ I am looking for a friend.” 

He looked at me very suspiciously—then took hold of my arm and 
said, “ I'll be your friend, and take care of you to-night.” I did not 
altogether fancy his friendship, so I tore loose and run away; but 
was soon nabbed again. Now, I had several such friends, who escorted 
me to the station house, where I was kept three days, and then I was 
discharged. I did not like this kind of treatment, cursed the city of 


28 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


Washington, and left with the first train, never stopping until I was 
in New York. 

In the city of New York I felt at home. I had many acquain¬ 
tances here—some respectable, others, the contrary. It was with the 
latter, I must confess, that I associated with the most. The Five 
Points, Water street, and Greenwich street, were our principal ren¬ 
dezvous. 

One night, as I stood on the pavement at the corner of-street, 

a young lady came along georgeously attired. She was a lovely 
creature, middling tall, elegantly built, with large, dark eyes, and 
round, white arms. She bad a very fascinating appearance. She 
came up to me and laid her band upon my arm,—bent over and looked 
into my face for a moment;—touched my breast lightly with her 
other hand, and then motioning down the street, she uttered the single 
word “ come.” The effect upon me was electric. My voluptuous 
nature was furiously aroused. I was utterly unable to control my 
violent passions. I seized her by the arm and unconsciously walked 
off with the tenestiial mermaid. Before I fully recovered my senses, 
I was ushered into a room, appropriately furnished. But before 
we were fairly seated, in steps a young man of fine appearance, 
apparently much enraged. Turning to me,— his eyes flashing fire, 
— he roared out: 

“ What the devil are you doing in my room with my wife V 1 

The fair woman began to cry and shed crocodile tears. I jumped 
up and faced t the intruder boldly, and said to him in an authori¬ 
tative tone : 

“ You insignificant puppy ! you better clear out of this room d—n 
soon, or ITl put you out.” 

He pulled out a knife and drew it. In the twinkling of an eye, I 
seized a pitcher, full of water, from the stand, and hurled it at his 
head, making him reel like a drunken sot;—pulled out a pistol and 
said to him as I opened the door: 

“ Now sir, walk out of this room, monsieur, or ITl blow your 
brains out. 

He stepped out, considerably humbled, and as he passed me I hit 
him on the head with the butt of my pistol; then I turned to his 
pretended wife and said :— 

“ How are yov , wife ? I’ll take care of you to-night.” 

I learned afterwards that this man was no more the lady’s husband 
than I was;—that she kept him there to play just such tricks on the 
poor victims that allowed themselves to be thus ensnared, and distort 
money out of them. She became disgusted with this would-be chiv¬ 
alrous husband, and prevailed upon me to stay with her; offering 
me money, clothing, and board. This was a strong temptation. She 

was an actress, and went by the name of Kate M-. I stayed 

about a week, when I commenced boating again on the Morris canal. 
In August following I married Kate and lived with her until fall. 
This was wife No. 2. 




OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


29 


CHAPTER VIII. 

DESERTED KATE—JOURNEYED TO MISSISSIPPI—ANOTHER ELOPEMENT AND 
MARRIAGE—DESERTION ON THE OTHER SIDE—THE MATCH MANUFACTORY 
AT HOME—THE THIRD ELOPEMENT. 

I WAS a practical Mormonist, and a free-lover. I believed that a 
man had a right, not only to have as many wives as he could sup¬ 
port, but as many as he desired,—provided he could get them ; and 
that, as soon as he got tired of one, he might leave her, and the first 
time the spirit moved him,—marry another. Whether my doctrine 
was a good one or not, I don’t know; it suited me. 

After I got tired of Kate, I left her and went to Mississippi. I 

stopped with an old man by the name of -Green, and boarded 

with him and wife, (they had no children,) for a few months. A 
short distance from Green’s place lived a young girl by the name of 
Mary Riley. Her parents were very cruel to her. She used to come 
to my boarding place and complain bitterly to Mr. and Mrs. Green, 
telling them how her father had flogged and maltreated her. One 
day Mr. Green told me about the girl, and expressed, his profound 
sympathy for her. I saw the young lady several times, but had, 
heretofore, no further acquaintance with her. Mr. Green prevailed 
upon me to take the girl and be her guardian and protector. Con¬ 
found the old fellow! Such suggestions to me were dangerous. He 
introduced me to her at her next visit, and then slipped away, leav¬ 
ing us two by ourselves. Mary was a blooming young girl about 
fifteen years old. She was clad miserably ; but notwithstanding her 
ragged clothes, there was beauty in her person that could not well be 
hid. It beamed forth from her wondrous large blue eyes, her lovely 
expression, her musical voice, and from the graceful motion of her 
undecorated person. Her long, light-brown hair was floating care¬ 
lessly over her shoulders; and as she stood before me, relating her 
hardships, her bosom heaved magnificently. Can you imagine what 
my feelings were at that time ? My heart began to beat; a flush 
crept over my face ; and upon her asking me in a sweetly plaintive 
tone whether I would not do something for her, the whirlwind of my 
passions broke loose; I almost crushed her to my breast, and kissed 
her twice. I promised to be her friend, and bid her good-day. 

Mr. Green went to the store and bought clothes for her. He 
dressed her up, so she looked like a little queen. Rut there was still 
a great obstacle to be overcome. Her father watched her every move. 
She could not be away half a day without being called to a strict 
account for her absence. He would allow no one to marry her, for 
he had already broken up one of her engagements. I consulted with 
Green, who wished the girl well; and we matured a plan to help her 
out of her misery. We procured a large “ dug-outwhich is a boat 



30 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


made from the trunk of a hollow tree. One night, after everything 
was ready, G-reen and I carried the dug-out to the nearest stream, 
and then I went for Mary and took her on my rude canoe and rowed 
off. Green stood on the bank and looked after us as far as the dark¬ 
ness of the night would permit, and bid us a God-speed. My 
delighted little duck was almost beside herself for joy : and as soon 
as we were out of sight of Green she leaned forward and pressed an 
affectionate kiss upon my cheek, out of pure gratitude. We pro¬ 
gressed slowly up the river, and in two days and a half we arrived at 
Island No. 10, in the Mississippi. This trip, though very irksome, 
in itself, was made exceedingly pleasant, by the continual presence of 
my agreeable companion. If there ever was any love talk, it was on 
that old dug-out. We landed; hired a man and a fine two-horse 
team to take us to Columbus. From thence we went to Cairo, where 
we stopped three days to recruit ourselves and consult upon our 
future movements. From Cairo we journeyed to St. Louis, where 
we were duly married. We rented a furnished room, and boarded. 
Up to this time I was a knight—a gallant—a gentleman ; but now 
I was Albert Teufel again ;—for I went out drinking and gambling, 
not coming home until morning. During the day I slept. This was 
more than my young wife had anticipated. She told me that my 
love, my regard, and even my respect for her had all passed away. 
That I did not even notice her. She begged of me to be a gentle¬ 
man, and not break her heart. This forcible appeal might have re¬ 
formed, at least for a time, any other man, but upon me, it had no 
effect. 

One morning I came home very much intoxicated. I lay down 
and took a long nap. When I awoke I found a long note in the 
room, signed “ Your much injured and dishonored wife, Mary.” This 
was all that was left of her. I paid my bill and went to Union Ho¬ 
tel, where I had left my first wife; but she was not to be found 
either. Staying a few days, after my third wife deserted me, (for 
this time the absconding was not on my side,) I began to think of 
home and the old folks. So I packed up and left the West for the 
city of Brotherly-love. My father now had a match manufactory of 
his own. He had several hands employed. Both my parents ex¬ 
pressed great joy at my return, after such a long absence. I was 
now fifteen years old. 

The management of the manufactory was handed over to me, upon 
the condition that I would stay at home. I had about ten boys and 
upwards of fifteen girls under my superintendence. My father made 
a mistake again. He did not yet know my disposition. I was too 
young to have charge of these employees. I could boss the boys well 
enough, to be sure, but I had a little weakness which you, undoubt¬ 
edly, have already discovered, when i was in the presence of the 
“ charming creatures.” 

One beautiful morning in the early part of the summer, the boss 
and one of the girls were among the missing. This time I did not 


OP ALBERT TEUFEL. 


31 


deem it necessary to go through the ceremony of a marriage, but soon 
after arriving in Baltimore we commenced house-keeping. YVe bought 
furniture and got fixed nicely. We run the machine well for about 
two months, when we began to quarrel. Quarreling is apt to disturb 
the peace and good feeling in any family. Ain’t it so ? At least, wc 
lived very inharmoniously together, after we began to quarrel. My 
spouse ended the trouble by very unceremoniously leaving me. I 
found this to be a very efficient mode of remedying brawls of this na¬ 
ture. Shall I call this, wife No. 4 ? 


CHAPTER IX. 

OLD MAN SOLD OUT—MOVED INTO BUCKS COUNTY—WENT TO SCHOOL—EIGHT 
WITH THE TEACHER—TENDED BAR IN PHILADELPHIA—THE TUSCARORA 
AGAIN—OUT OF MONEY—BOATING—VISIT TO “THE CAVE.” 

I SOLD my furniture and went back to my old position in the man¬ 
ufactory. Ere long the old man sold out, and mother and I 
moved into the upper end of Bucks county. Having no employment, 
I attended school. My teacher’s name I will not mention, for he is 
a Christian, and I do not know whether or not he is ambitious to 
have his name appear in this memoir. Some of my former teachers 
were stern but this one was—Sterner. While playing ball I was hit 
iff the eye by a large boy, not accidentally as I thought, but designed¬ 
ly. I used such language towards this fellow as was not tolerated in 
school. The teacher was going to punish me. He sent for a “ gad,” 
and at its arrival he requested me “ to come out.” I did come out 
boldly. I was then commanded to take off my coat. To this order 
I had serious objections, and refused to comply. He took hold of me 
and gave me a good shaking, then we took “ turn about” and I shook 
him. In the scuffle we tumbled over the benches. I happened to be 
provided with red pepper, which is a weapon I generally carried with 
me;—I peppered his eyes well, then pounded him soundly, and run 
home. 

“ Tie that fights and runs away. 

Will live to fight another day.” 

I, afterwards, went to another school. This teacher was a Mann. 
I got along very well with him. He, too, called me out one day; 
and this time I had deserved a whipping. I walked up to him and 
folded my arms. He took the rod and laid it on to me rather 
heavily;—when I thought I had enough I walked off to my seat. 
He looked rather savagely at me, but did not pursue me. I made 
him a present at Christmas, of a map of the city of Philadelphia. I 
did not go to school very long. 



32 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


In the summer of 1859 I tended bar, at No. 488 N. Third street, 
Philadelphia, in the house owned by Mr. Pabst. His son and I were 
a merry couple. We often tied strings across the pavement, about 
six feet above it, and then retired into the bar-room and watched. 
Soon we’d see an elegantly dressed young fop come along wearing 
a high silk hat, at a rapid pace, until he’d come to the string, when 
his hat would stay behind. “ Darn it,” he’d say to himself, pick up 
his hat, then look around to see if anybody was looking. I stayed 
here about three months when I fell in love with one of the kitchen 
girls :—engaged to marry her; set the day, but left before it ar¬ 
rived. 

I went on board the Tuscarora again as ordinary seaman. We 
made two voyages, then I was promoted to able-bodied seaman. In 
this capacity I made five voygages. Nothing unusual occurred that 
would interest you, so I will not weary you by giving a detailed ac¬ 
count of what took place on the ship. When I left the ship I stopped 
in Philadelphia and spent all my money. I had a pair of blue 
breeches, a pair of big sea-boots, a blue knit shirt and a Scotch cap; 
this was all the property I possessed in this world. 

I worked my way up country, where my father was boating. He 
made me captain of the boat. Having made three trips we “ spreed 
out.” I went to New Brunswick, N. J., to a stable keeper, who was 
an old friend to both my father and me. I told him the old man’s team 
had drowned and I wanted twenty-five dollars to help him buy an¬ 
other. Whether he believed me or not I don’t know, nor did I care, 
for I got the twenty-five dollars. I returned to Philadelphia and 
paid a visit to “ The Cave” Not having been there for more than 
three years, I was somewhat of a stranger. Yet, I met many of my 
old friends there, who reminded me of days gone by. They had kept 
up the establishment and their organizations. A good part of the 
money of the stable keeper of New Brunswick was spent before I left 
the cave again. We drank, played cards, danced, and went through 
the same performances that we were wont to do in times past. 


CHAPTER X. 

ENLISTED IN WAR OF 1861—LIFE IN CAMP. 

T HE whole of my life was a continual change of scene, yet there 
was much sameness in its general nature. And were I to tell you 
every little circumstance that occurred in my experience, there would 
be much repetition, and I would certainly weary your patience. I 
will therefore introduce myself to you under new and different cir¬ 
cumstances. 



OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


33 


In 1861, when Lincoln had proclaimed war against the United 
States, or at least, against a part of them, and the North was re¬ 
cruiting soldiers in every city, town, village and hamlet, for the war 
to destroy the slave States, I was in the city of New York. While 
walking out towards the city park my attention was attracted by a 
large handbill in front of a recruiting office. I stopped and read it. 
Before I had finished reading, a young man approached me, and 
said : 

“ Sir, do you want to enlist ?” 

“ Yes, sir,” said I, being desirous just then to enter upon some new 
exploit, and thinking there might be some fun in this soldiering 
business. 

I was taken into the office and was 11 enlisted.” I don’t know how 
it was done; this young man who was called captain, asked me my 
name and age, and—I forget what else was done, except that the 
captain said I was all right, and took me to Long Island to Camp 
Hill House. I walked about the camp feeling a little as if I was out 
of my proper element. Soon I heard from different parts of the camp 
voices singing out: 

u Fresh fish ! fresh fish ! fresh fish !” 

Every one was looking at me. “ I must be the fresh fish,” 
thought I. Soon a little squad gathered around me, and asked me 
what company I belonged to, whether I was a private, a lieutenant, 
or captain. I told them I did not know what the devil I was, or 
where I belonged. Having seen the inside of the camp, I thought I 
would go out and look around and see if I could not find something 
for my stomach’s sake. I encountered a man with an iron pole who 
stopped me saying ‘‘ halt.” 

“ Who are you?” asked I, looking at him contemptuously. 

“lama guard, sir,” said he, u and you can’t go out here.” 

u You can’t prevent me,” said I, slapped him in the face and 
walked out. I went over to the tavern to get a drink. Walking up 
to the bar, I called up the captain and several other officers, that 
were sitting in the room. 

“ What will you take ?” asked the bar keeper. 

u Whiskey,” said I. 

“ You can’t have any whiskey, you are too young.” 

“ Damn you, I am old enough to be your daddy;—what d’ you 
mean ?” 

Then he handed out the bottle. When they drank my health, I 
looked up, and then the captain recognized me. 

“ What the h—1 are you doing out here ?” said he, apparently 
much surprised. il Did I not put you into camp? How did you 
get out ?” 

“ Walked out, sir,” said I. 

“ You’d better take your drink and go back into camp; no one is 
allowed to be out here without a pass.” 


34 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


“ Captain, is that the new recruit you fetched here to-day ?” asked 
the colonel. 

“ Yes,” said the captain. 

“ You didn’t miss it much, I think, when you said he was a ‘ hard 
nut.’ ” 

“ Was there no guard there ?” asked the captain, turning to me. 

“ I don’t know what you mean/’ said I, very innocently. 

li Was there ho sentry,—no man standing at the gate ?” 

<l There was a man there with an iron ramrod; d’ you call him a 
guard V 1 

“ Yes, sir, that was the guard; you dare not pass him.” 

“ He is no more than anybody else; how did I know he was a 
guard. Any man might stand there with an iron rod.” 

‘ £ Tuh-tut-tut, no such language here. Didn’t he stop you from 
going out ?” 

“Yes, sir, he was going to stop me, but I gave him a pelt 
over the snout, and walked out. I did not know he had a right 
to stop me. He showed me no papers.” The officers all burst out 
laughing. 

“ You ought not to do that, sir; you might be put into the guard 
house and be court-martialed.” 

“ What, for hittin’ that fellow ?” 

“Yes, sir; he could stop me, if I had no pass. I’ll let you go 
this time, but the next time I’ll have to punish you.” 

Thinks I, “ how are you , soldier ? If I had known this before 
I would not have gone into it in the first place.” 

Captain took me back into camp again. 

“ Now, you must stay in here. You can’t go out without a pass,” 
said he. 

“ Well, captain, won’t you give me a pass?” 

The captain began to laugh and said : “ Wait a few days and 

behave yourself right well, then I may give you a pass.” 

I said nothing in reply, but I thought this was a devil of a way of 
doing business.; to keep a fellow in here a few days as if he were a 
criminal. 

A whole lot of fellows gathered around me and anxiously inquired 
what they would do with me. 

“ Do, for what ?” said I. “ For hitting that guard?” 

“ Yes, sir, won’t they put you into the guard house?” 

“ The hell with the guard! he ain’t nobody.” 

The guard came up and said, if he would have had a bayonet he’d 
have run it through me. We commenced to pitch pennies. I heard 
some outsiders remark: 

“That’s a smart little coon.” 

The guard was standing around there, his lips growing awfully out 
of shape. He said to a bystander : 

“ If he does that again, I’ll punish him for it.” 

“ You will ?” said I, turning around and knocking him—up side 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


35 


down. He got up and pitched to the officers. A young fellow who 
was called “ Young Study,” said to me : 

u Go with me up into the quarters. He’s going tc have you put 
into the guard house.” 

I went up with him. 

“ What company do you belong to ?” he asked, as we were walking 
along. 

(i I don’t know. Ain’t it all one company ?” 

“No, sir, there are nine companies.” 

“ Well, then, I’ll go with your company.” 

“0, you can’t do that, sir; you must go with the company you 
enlisted in. Who enlisted you ?” 

“Captain—somebody,—darn if I know.” 

“ Was it the captain that came in with you ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Then you belong to my company.” 

“ Good, be-golly!” 

Four of us went into the top bunk and began to play cards. On 
account of my short heavy stature, I was nick-named “Shortie.” 
By-the-by, the captain and the wounded guard came up. 

“ Lie down, Shortie, we’ll play cards,” said Study. 

“ Where is that short fellow, I fetched here the other day ?” 

“ What fellow ?” some of the boys asked. 

“ Teufel,” answered the captain. 

“ Don’t know him.” 

He thtn asked the sergeant where Teufel was. “Don’t know,” 
was the answer. Then he passed along hollowing out “ Teufel! 
Teufel!” 

“ Do you know where Teufel is?“ he asked Study. 

“No, sir; the last I saw of him was down there after the fight.“ 

“ The little rascal if I find him I’ll put him into the guard house, 
and keep him there a couple weeks. 

“ What for ?” asked study. 

“Why see here,” pointing to the bleeding guard, “ how he cut this 
fellow.” 

“ Why, it was his own fault,” said Study, “he called Teufel a 
son-of-a-bitch and asked him why he hit him, on guard; then he 
struck Teufel. Teufel then pitched in' and licked him.” 

“ How is this?” said the captain to the guard, “you said he hit 
you.” 

•' No, sir,” said Study, “ he hit him first, I was by and saw the 
whole; that is a lying rascal—he ought to be put into the guard house 
himself;—he has got others there by his lying.” 

“ My fine fellow,” says the captain to him, “ I guess I’ll put you 
into the guard house,” and led him off,—captain walking ahead. 

I crept up and gave him another lick after the captain had passsd 
me, then dodging again. 

“ Boo—hoo he roared out, “ Teufel hit me again.” 


36 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


“ No, sir, it was not Teufel, he is not up here,” said one of the 
boys, “nobody hit him at all.” The captain looked at him and said, 
to us : 

“Look at that blood, somebody hit him.” Then he took him oft. 
Soon he returned and took us all to the guard house, and locked us up. 
After the captain had locked the door I went into this guard again,— 
he hollowed murder. He was taken out and we four were left by 
ourselves. The guard hou?e was outside the camp. 

“I wish I could get out of this,” said Study, after we had our 
supper. Each of us had got a case knife with our grub. 

“ We’ll d—n soon get out of here,” said I. I took the knives and 
nicked them into saws, by cutting them together. Then we began to 
saw away at the floor,—two fellows at a time. In about half an hour, 
we had a hole big enough to let us out. 

“ Now,” said I, after we were out, “ we might as well be choked 
for a horse as for a colt. Let’s go and get ourselves horses and go on 
a riding expedition.” 

We proceeded to the stable and each picked out a horse, saddled 
and bridled him and off we rode, up to Brown’s hotel and got a bottle 
of whiskey. Thence we rode out to the Union bace Course. We all 
drew our horses up in line on the course ; then we yelled and shouted, 
and chased our horses around the course with a caution. Somebody 
informed ou us. The captain, lieutenant and five or six guards came 
down and hid. When we came around and got in line again for an¬ 
other race, and were about to start, they run out and surrounded us. 

“ Ah, hah,” said the captain, “ we’ve got you now.” 

I made a charge,—my horse run against one of the guard and 
knocked him down. Study and I broke through,—ran through the 
gate and when we were about half way up to the camp, we dismounted, 
left the horses and started on foot. The captain and a few others came 
after us in hot haste. We jumped over the fence and run. 

“ Halt! halt! or I’ll shoot,” cried the captain. 

We looked around and saw him aiming at us with the pistol. 

“ He is going to shoot, Shortic,” said Study; “ he’s got a pistol.” 

“ The hell with his pistol; let’s run,” said I, pitching on in good 
earnest. Study stopped. I kept on. 

“ Stop ! Teufel, 1*11 shoot! I‘ll shoot!“ 

I looked around and saw tne captain coming after me, hot foot. I 
kept him about the same distance. So I run over the fields, until I 
came to a hill. Up the hill I went, got into a “ dodge, ” where there 
was a vault of a cemetery. The gate of which being open, I turned in 
and shut the gate. I soon heard the captaia and the lieutenant out¬ 
side. 

“ The vault was open,—perhaps he is in there,” said the lieutenant. 

‘ p Now they’ll surely catch me,” said I to myself. 

I crept behind the coffins and hid. It was as dark as pitch. I step¬ 
ped on something, which broke with a crack. I stooped down and felt 
around, when my hand got into something soft, emitting a most offen- 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


37 


sive odor. They opened the gate and entered, but could see nothing 
on account of the darkness. The captain struck a match. I was as 
still as death,—I heard my heart beat so violently that I feared even 
they might hear it. 

“ Perhaps he is in behind those coffins?” said the captain. 

u Darn them,” thought I, now they'll surely find me, but the lieu¬ 
tenant relieved me by saying : 

• ( Oh, no, he'd be afraid to go back there.” 

11 1 guess, he is not there,” rejoined the captain. 

I did not think of being afraid until I found that they were afraid 
to look behind the coffins. They went out and shut the gate. I took 
a match that I happened to have in my vest pocket,—and it was the 
only one,—carefully rubbed it over a coffin, it struck fire. I looked 
what this confounded thing, under my feet, was. Imagine my feelings 
when I beheld the form of a small infant lying in a large cigar box. 
The lid was broken in by my weight, which was the crack that I had 
heard. Now, my hair stood on ends ! I forgot that anybody outside 
was after me, I feared more what I imagined to be after me from 
within. I hurried out,—run against a coffin, knocked it down—heard 
it tumbling after me; I didn’t stop nor look behind, but rather in¬ 
creased my speed, until I was outside the vault. I felt very uncom¬ 
fortable, for there was a scent about me so very offensive that I hast¬ 
ened to the creek, and washed off my shoes and breeches. Bah ! how 
they stunk ! 

I stayed away until next night; then I went to the old guard 
house, climbed on the roof and pulled some shingles off. This made 
a very loud noise; and just as Study got out and we jumped off the 
roof, the captain and lieutenant rushed out, and cried : 

“ Stop ! or we'll shoot.” 

u Shoot, and be d—d,” said I, running as hard as I could. 

u Stop, Study !” cried the lieutenant, “ or I’ll shoot!” He thought 
he could frighten Study, but he missed it this time. 

“ Shoot away I” said Study and ran for his liberty. 

They did shoot. “ Hiss-s-s" went the bullet between our heads. 

“ That came damn near,” said Study being a little frightened. 

“ Never mind, they won't hit us,—let us run like blazes ! follow 
me,” said I. 

He did follow, and seeing that their pursuit was in vain, the 
captain and lieutenant abandoned it. We went to East New York, 
where we met some others that were out on a “ french leave.” We 
went to a tavern and asked for a private room, and cautioned the bar¬ 
keeper not to inform on us if any officers should come. We were 
showed into a private room, where we began to play cards and drink 
whiskey. Some girls came in. We had a bully time. But in the 
midst of our glee, in came the indomitable captain with four 
guards. 

“ Ha ! ha ! ha! Shortie, this time we’ve got you,” laughed the 
captain. “ Study, you are a nice looking nut.” 


38 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


“ There is nothing like having sport/’ said I, “ this is as much 
sport for you as it is for us, I suppose.” 

“ Yes, I’ll give you sport, I’ll fix you.” 

I whispered to Study to watch me, and to run when he’d see me 
run. 

“ Won’t you let us have a drink, before you take us ?” I asked. 

“ Let them have a drink, captain,” said one of the guards, “ it 
will be long before they get another.” 

The captain consented, and we all had a drink. I nudged Study, 
and off we went again. We run around the house into the kitchen, 
—they, after us. The table was set, a large mush pot was on the 
floor, which tripped Study, who fell over against the table, knock¬ 
ing some dishes down, and making a tremendous noise. We 
encountered a couple fellows who attempted to catch us. We 
threatened to knock them over, and they let us pass. 

“ Stop them—damn it—stop them !” bellowed the captain from 
behind ; but we ran like good fellows, and escaped. That was the 
last they saw of us for a few days. 

We went over the Sound on the ferry boat to New York Went 
to No.— Greenwich street, where we stayed two days. While sitting 
in the bar-room, we were surprised again by the persevering captain 
and posse. This time they took us to camp, and put shackles and 
hand-cuffs on us. These appendages were strangers to us. We did 
not know how to treat them. We tried for some time, in vain, to take 
them off. We tried to slip them,—tried nails, but were unable to 
succeed. At last we took a piece of iron, and hammered on them, 
trying to break them, then, though we could not break them, we 
made a great discovery; for we found that by striking upon the 
clasps, a certain way they would spring open. This discovery was of 
great use to me afterwards, for I found that I could open handcuffs, 
if they were not too strong, simply by pressing the clasps between 
my thumb and fingers a certain way. Well, we took off all our 
shackles and handcuffs, and broke out again, proceeded to Brown’s 
hotel, and while we were taking a drink, who comes in but our old, 
inveterate pursuers. They seemed to like the fun as much as we did. 
There was no ill-feeling between us. “ Catch and keep us if you 
can,” was our motto “ We can and will,” was theirs. 

The captain took me by the arm, and lieutenant took Study. At 
Snedegar’s hotel I tripped my escort and throwed him down, and 
when I was running past the lieutenant he turned round to catch 
me, when Study seized his leg and upset him. Then we both were 
loose again, and run to East New York, where the guards caught us 
in the evening at about nine o’clock. They took us back to camp 
and put us where the guards used to stay. The guard house was 
being repaired and made stronger. About three o’clock in the morn¬ 
ing we got out of there, passed the guards, who called for their 
sergeant. But we were already out of camp. We went to New York, 
where we stayed about a week, then finding that no one was coming 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


39 


after us, we went back, fearing we would lose our positions as privates in 
Uncle Sam’s big army. We went back and reported ourselves. We 
were again sent to the guard house, where we were kept two days, then 
were let loose. We now changed our base. We fixed a place in our 
barracks by cutting a hole through the back part, through which 
we could go out and enter whenever we felt so inclined. After 
“retreat,” we would go out and come back again to “ tat-too.” Then 
went out again and coaie back to u reveille.“ We often played sick so 
we were not put on duty. 

One day when we were outside, we met the captain, who was after 
deserters. He asked us whether we had seen them anywhere. 

“Yessir,” said I, “they are up here in the barn.” 

While the Captain went up to look for them, wc skedaddled 
Study went home in time for “ retreat,” but I stayed out two days. 
When 1 got back and the company marched up single file to get their 
grub, the captain caught me aud put me into the old place again. 
Study brought me my supper and two case knives. I worked 
a whole night and next day before I got out. I went to an Irish¬ 
man’s saloon, which we frequented when out on “french leave.“ 
This Was an out of the way place and served us very well as a hiding 
place. I soon got a little tight. I lay down and took a nap. When 
I woke I heard somebody talking in the room,—it was Study. I heard 
him say, “ I wish Al. was out, too. We will have to smuggle some 
whiskey in to him.“ 

“ I’ll have no objections to take some now if you please,” said I, hav¬ 
ing been hitherto, imperceived by them. 

“ Well, by the Lord, if there ain’t Shortie;—damn him,” said Big¬ 
lipped Jimmy, in utter astonishment. “Well, Shortie, how did you 
get out. Shortie, cap. will give you hell. You and Study kick up high 
shines once in awhile. Cap is down on you ever since you tripped 
him , he’ll court-martial you, and give you fits. But never mind, if he 
puts you into the guard house, we’ll give you plenty of whiskey.” This 
speech was rattled off in that peculiar irish brogue, which I am not 
able to represent in writing. “ Fetch that whiskey this Way, so we 
have something to wet our whistles with,” he continued. 

We took several drinks, played cards, and drank again. At last we 
all got so drunk that we lay down on the floor and fell asleep. 

While I was gone, the captain, I understood, was going to release 
me; but when he came to the guard house and could not find me, he 
became enraged, called out a posse of guards and went in search of 
me. 

While we were dozing away at the Irishman’s saloon, the captain 
and his guards came and knocked at the door. The old woman re¬ 
fused to open. The captain threatened to break the door in, if she 
would not open. She awakened us and told us what was up. Such 
hopping and scampering for hiding places !—some ran into the cellar; 
Study hid behind some clothes that hung against the wall,—1 was so 
tight that I could not see straight. I tumbled over the cradle, upset 


40 


LTFE AND CONFESSIONS 


it and spilled the baby out, which screamed with all its might,—I, 
like a timid hare closely pursued by the^hound, took refuge in the 
nearest hiding place I could find, and crept under the bureau. The 
door was opened,—in came the captain and half a dozen guards. I got 
my elbow on a young kitten's tail, that had taken refuge with me un¬ 
der the bureau, which made it squeal. I soon silenced it by strangling 
it to death, and while the baby was yelling, and the old woman crying 
“ murder“ and going on at a high rate with the captain, I jerked the 
cat out on the floor when she screamed:— 

“ Captain, that vagabond there (guard) killed my cat! You are 
murderin' my family, murder ! murder ! clear out of the house !“ 

The captain at last got her quiet. Then they went through the house 
in search of us. Study ran into another room. I crept out and fol¬ 
lowed him. He took me for a guard, who he thought was after him, 
and jumped out of the window. The guard saw him and made for 
him. He put over the field with all his speed. 

After our pursuers had all left, we assembled again in the bar¬ 
room. 

“ Where is study ! asked Big-lipped-Jimmy. 

“They’re after him," said I, “ he got scared of me and run out; 
the guard saw him and followed him. I run out too and was 
pretty nearly caught.“ 

“ Then we had a general laugh over the rumpers. The old woman 
bragged, how cunningly she had deluded and fooled the captain. In' 
about an hour Study came back. 

“Bad luck to you study !“ said Jimmy, “ to let Shortie scare you; 
you ought to have been caught, big lump you.“ 

“ Shortie, —d damn you, Shortie, “ said Study, “what did you 
come after me for ?“ 

“ How wide is that field over there,“ said I, “ I saw you were 
stepping it off.“ Here the laugh came in. 

“How fur wurd you, Study ?“ asked Jimmy. 

“ I was all vhe way to Brooklyn. That darn cap. can run like a 
deer.“ 

We all got drunk again. I felt awful. The next morning T found 
myself lying on the floor—old Mickey's wife, on top of me. All 
the others were lying cn the floor in all kinds of positions. Big- 
lipped-Jimmy lay near the stove with his head under it. The baby 
bawled like a lost lamb. 

We got up and washed,—tapered up on a few drinks and left 
for camp. When we arrived, of course, we were sent to our old 
prison. 

The next day the colonel came in and asked us whether we would 
behave ourselves, if he'd let us out. None answered 

“Which are those two fellows, you are so much complaining of." 
asked the colonel of the captain. 

“ Teufel and Johnson, there." Johnson was Study's name. 
“They are the two who are making all this trouble." 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


41 


“ Teufel, what are you ?” asked the colonel. 

il I’m a drummer, sir,” replied I. 

“ Do you think you can behave yourself if I let you out ?” 

“ I don’t know what you mean.” 

u You don’t know what I mean ?” He looked at cap. and smiled. 
11 1 want you to stay in camp, here, and not go out without a pass.” 

“ No, sir, I can’t do that.” 

“ Then, sir, we’ll leave you here, a week or two on bread and 
water.” 

He then asked the others the same questions and they gave the 
same answers. 

“ I guess, we’ll keep you all in here a while ” 

They locked us in again. We had some whiskey sent us, enough 
to make us feel good. We tore up the floor, but could not get out; 
lor everything was walled shut; so we took up the joists and used 
them as battering rams, with which we burst the door out. We 
marched out, went to Snedegar’s hotel, where the officers were. They 
were in a private room. We walked up to the bar and asked for 
whiskey. The bar-keeper refused to give us any ; so we chased him 
out, and Study and I tended bar. We made mint-julips, brandy- 
smashes, and all kinds of fancy drinks. The bar-keeper informed 
on us. When the officers came in, the col. begged of us not to break 
anything. 

“ Colonel, come take a drink,” said Study, as he pulled the col. to 
the bar, “ come let’s be friends.” ' 

“ What’ll you have ?” asked I. 

“ I guess, the col. takes a brandy-smash,” said Study. 

The guards burst in, and our fun was over again for a time. This 
time we were destined to be punished more severely than usual. We 
were gagged, and our hands were tied behind us. This was really a 
severe punishment as long as it lasted, for the gags were very un¬ 
comfortable. They were, however, soon taken off again, not by those 
who put them on, but by ourselves, for we assisted each other until 
one got loose, then he loosened the others. When our persecutors 
came in*to take the gags off, they found that we had saved them that 
trouble. We gained, however, no favor from them for this act, for 
it seems to have been premature. They gagged us again and tied us 
up to the ceiling, fairly raising us off the floor. I was tied to a big 
spike, which soon broke and let me down, rather suddenly. We 
were asked again after we were loosened, whether we would now be¬ 
have ourselves. 

u No, sir, we don’t care a darn how long you’ll keep us in here,” 
was the universal answer. 

We were, however, liberated, and then we did behave ourselves 
for some time. Preparations were now made to organize the regi¬ 
ment more thoroughly. The drum major began to give us lessons. 
But he had a hard task, for we were very careless and inattentive. 

Our first lesson was to drum u daddy and mammy.” This, seem- 

4 


42 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


ingly, was a very easy lesson, still it was not so easy to ns who never 
had any drum-sticks in our hands. After showing us how, the major 
left us to practice by ourselves. We kept singing “dad-dy-and- 
mam-my, dad-dy-and-mam-my.” We could sing it well enough, 
but to drum it, was a different thing. We couldn’t get “ daddy” 
right, for we always omitted the last syllable. While we sung “ dad- 
dy-and-mam-my,” we beat it “ rum-dum-dum-dum ” instead of 
“ rum-de-dum-dum-dum.” We got out of humor at the confounded 
thing, and threw our drum-sticks away. The next day the drum 
major became impatient himself and pushed us out, saying he did 
not want us,—for we could never learn to drum. I think the major 
was mistaken, in his judgment. We could have learned if we had 
tried, for I, at least, learned to drum well sometime afterwards. 

I was then sent to the quartermaster’s department, where I helped 
to issue clothes. 

Some time after, I asked for a pass to go to New York. The cap¬ 
tain was willing to give me a pass for two hours, but I pursuaded 
him to make it six hours. I left, went to New York, thence home 
to Bucks county, to see my friends. Well, of course, I did not get 
back within my limited time, but at the end of two weeks I was in 
camp again. I had never intended to desert; for you know very 
well that, had this been my intention, I might have escaped most 
any time. All I wanted, was to be free, to go where and when I 
pleased, and return with the same free will. 


CHAPTER X I. 

REGIMENT AT WASHINGTON—FAIRFAX COURT HOUSE—TIIE BLACK HORSE CAV¬ 
ALRY-JIMMY IS SHOT—BECAME BUGLER—TRICK ON CAPTAIN—THE BUGLE 
CORPS. 

I T was late in the fall of 1861 when our regiment left for Washing¬ 
ton. Before we left New York we had a little difficulty about 
our pay. We wanted to be paid before going to Washington. This 
was, of course, refused ; but the colonel promised to get our pay as 
soon as we should get to Washington. 

Soon after our arrival at Washington we were furnished with En¬ 
field rifles. Now we were fully equipped, and began to feel like sol¬ 
diers. Our bayonet scabbards were so long that it took some time before 
we got used to them. When we’d run they would get between our 
legs and tumble us u head-over-heels.” We soon learned, however, 
to lift them up when going at double-quick. 

We marched to Sfafford Court House, or some other court house, 
where general Burnside was getting up his expedition. Here we 



OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


43 


had good times, until one morning we received news that the 
“black horse cavalry” were coming. Then we were frightened. 
We felt then as if this playing soldier was going to be a serious thing 
after all. Pickets were sent out in every direction. Big-lipped Jim¬ 
my,—an old, half deaf man by the name of Simonson, and myself had 
positions close together. I was between Jimmy and Simonson. Our or¬ 
ders were to shoot everything that came within the line without giving 
the countersign. This order was strictly observed by us, for every live 
thing that would venture within our line was shot. We understood 
the “ black horse cavalry ” were scattered all around, and we watched 
attentively to avoid a surprise. But one night, the immutable laws 
of nature made a call upon Jimmy, who obeyed the summons and 
foolishly went outside the line, into some thick bushes. I saw him 
leave, but Simonson did not. Before Jimmy returned to his post, 
however, the old hero spied him, and said to me, in a low tone :— 

“ Over there is somebody/'' and took aim. 

“ Don’t shoot,” said I, “ it’s Jimmy.” 

But lie didn’t hear me, and pulled the trigger ! Up jumped Jim¬ 
my and yelled furiously : 

“ Bad luck to you, the black horse cavalry are coming—Pm 
shot.” 

He came limping to his post in the greatest hurry, almost losing 
his duds, and being nearly frightened to death. He seized his mus¬ 
ket and looked for the enemy. 

“ You’ve shot, Jimmy !” said I to old Simonson. 

“ And was that Jimmy ?” he asked, and laughed cruelly. 

We went and examined the wounded man ; and found that the 
ball had lodged in his left posteriors. Soon the sergeant came along 
and inquired what this shooting meant. We told him the “ black 
horse cavalry ” were over there in the bushes, thick. 

“ Well, don’t fire,” said he. “ Where is Jimmy?” 

He was lying on a small hill in the bushes. 

“ Here I am!” cried Jimmy, “ bad luck to you, I am shot,—the 
1 black horse cavalry’ were here ; oh, sergeant, I’m shot.” 

The matter was then explained to the sergeant, who burst out 
laughing notwithstanding the groaning of poor Jimmy. 

The sergeant said he would bring up another man in the place of 
the wounded one. 

“ You’d better stay away,” said I, “or you'll be shot.” 

So Simonson and I stayed out all night by ourselves. In the morn¬ 
ing we received orders to come to camp. Old Simonson, failing to 
hear the order, refused to go, and stayed out all day. The next night 
I and another private were sent out. 

“ Haven’t you got anything to eat ?” asked Simonson. 

The poor old man suffered much on account of his defective hear¬ 
ing, and his faithfulness. 

“No, sir, why the deuce didn’t you go with me and get something 


44 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


to eat?” said I. u Did you sec anything of the ‘ black horse 
cavalry’ ?” 

The captain came and told us to pack up our knapsacks and be 
ready,—and as soon as we heard the drum at camp we should come 
back. Pretty soon the tat-too was beat, and off we started double- 
quick—stumbling and falling every few paces on account of the 
darkness of the night. We met the captain, who came to tell us 
that the drumming was only the tat-too. So we went back to our 
positions. It was as dark as pitch. 

In a few days we moved to head-quarters at Washington. While 
here I became desirous of learning to play the bugle. A man from 
the 7th Ohio volunteered to teach me. I learned rapidly and became 
the bugler of our regiment. 

For some misconduct I was put into the guard house by orders of 
the lieutenant colonel, and at the suggestion of the captain, was com¬ 
pelled to carry my knapsack full of stones. I swore vengeance 
against the captain. I broke out and took the knapsack off. The 
captain saw me and asked me : 

“ Who told you to take off that knapsack V T 

“ Nobody, sir.” 

“ Put it on, again.” 

u l won’t do it.” 

He then tried to put it on me. I, being the stronger, took the 
knapsack and put it on him, buckling it on very securely. The cap¬ 
tain swore fiercely, made all kinds of threats, but I heeded them not. 
I marched him round some time and taunted him by asking how he 
liked his invention. Finding that threats were of no avail, he begged 
me to take it off. I told him to walk that post, until I came back; 
I was going to Washington, but would soon return, when I would 
take it off. 

“ Teufel! Teufel! come back, you rascal I” he cried. I walked 
on like a good fellow. 

After staying at Washington two days, I returned to the regiment. 
In the meantime the captain came to the regiment, carrying my 
knapsack full of stones, almost exhausted. Keiper, an intimate 
friend of his, said to him : 

“ Well, cap., you are going to be a private, ain’t you? It is so 
long since I saw you carry anything on your back.” 

Here the laugh came in on the captain. 

u This is some of that d—d Teufel’s work,” said the captain. 

“ Hurrah ! for Shortie ! More power to Shortie 1” said Capper, 
another private. 

The knapsack was taken off amidst much laughing and many 
jokes; but Capper was put into the guard house for cheering me. 
When Study saw me he said : 

“ Shortie ! Shortie ! cap. will give you h—1. He came home with 
the knapsact full of stones, almost dead.” They then told me all 
that had happened. The captain, they said, was mad enough to have 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


45 


shot me. I then went into the bunks and hid. When the captain 
learned that I had come back, he came in and called me. The lieu¬ 
tenant colonel sent for me to blow the calls. 

“ I am all right again," thinks I, and went. After blowing the 
calls I was nabbed and taken before, the colonel. 

“ Where were you?” asked the colonel. 

U I was at Washington, to see my friends. 

“ Why did you take that knapsack off and put it on the captain ?" 

u I didn’t take it off. He took it off himself and put it on." 

Of course, this the colonel did not believe j and so I was again 
sent below, but the carrying stones was abolished. 

At last we received orders to march to Harper’s Ferry. We were 
welcomed on the part of the women by the waving of sheets and 
handkerchiefs. After Stonewall Jackson had made a raid on Win¬ 
chester, we marched thither; thence to Cedar Creek, across which 
we built a bridge. 

While at Cedar Creek I got up a bugle corps. I did not like 
my pupils, so I told the colonel that these fellows were not worth 
their salt. He then gave me permission to pick out nine men. You 
may think that I picked out my old cronies. A happy set we were ! 
I was boss, and a good one ) at least my class continually flattered me. 
One day we all went swimming down into the river. The practising 
we did wasn’t a great deal. The boys were running about most of 
the time. The captain seeing how we were acting, reported us to the 
colonel. So he came out and watched us. Seeing that there were 
none about but myself, he came to me and asked where all my corps 
was; he wanted to see them. So I took my bugle and blowed—nobody 
came;—I blowed again as loud as I could. Then they came from 
every quarter. ) Colonel asked me to exercise them, to see what progress 
they were making. I took the hint. We blowed away, but soon the 
colonel said, “ That is enough, you may dismiss them." He kept me 
back, and asked how I called the roll. I saw what he was after now. 
For when I used to call the roll at regular times there were always 
some who would answer for the absent ones. This seemed to have 
been reported to the colonel. I told him I allowed the men to answer 
in their tents. 

“ Well, hereafter you will come to my tent to practice," said he, 
and left. 

“ All right," thinks I, “ I’ll fix you." 

The next time I saw my men I told them what orders I had received, 
and instructed them to blow with all their might when we’d practice 
before the colonel’s tent. 

When the time arrived to practice I marched the men up to the 
place we were desired to come. I showed them first how to blow a 
certain call, then they started in all to-gether blowing as hard as they 
could. I stopped them and scolded them severely,—calling them 
dunces, blockheads, &c. Then I showed them again, when they all 


46 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


pitched in again. Such a noise as those buglers made ! The colonel 
couldn’t stand it. He came out and said :— 

“ Get out of here, G—d d—n you;—go out into the woods,—you 
are enough to set a fellow crazy ! clear out!” 

Off we went rejoicing. After that the colonel never invited us 
again to come to his tent to practice. 

“ Shortie is a bully fellow,” said one of the amateur buglers, “he 
knows how to get ahead of the colonel.” 

We were left to ourselves for a while, but were soon ordered to 
practice with the “ drum corps ” Then we annoyed them as much 
as we could. For whenever they practiced we began to blow, so that 
the major could’nt hear a thing. He reported us to the colonel, 
telling him that we made too much noise. 

“ Put your ears into your pockets,” said the colonel, “ if you can’t 
hear it. I’m getting tired of these complaints.” 

One day when the drummers were practicing, we began to practice, 
too, for our orders were to practice with the drum corps. Then we 
had a race. The drummers beat upon their drums with all their 
might, and the buglers blowed. Such a racket, you never heard! 
The buglars were bound not to be out-done; they swelled themselves 
up and made the welkin ring as if Gabriel was sounding his last 
trump. The buglers came out victorious. 

When the regiment was drilling I used to blow the calls. So one 
very hot day, the colonel exercised the men very severely; and for 
several hours. I saw the boys were tired. I thought I would put a 
stop to it. So when the colonel was about to put them through 
another double-quick, I blowed the “ re-call.” The colonel gave the 
command : 

“ Double quick,”—I blowed the re-call—then he turned it into,— 
“ to your quarters , march !” 

The boys shouted, “ Hurrah, for Shortie !” as they trotted into their 
quarters. The colonel smiled. 

“ That time Shortie got ahead of the colonel,” said one, which 
expression the boys seemed to have appreciated very much. 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


47 


CHAPTER XII. 

BATTLE OF CEDAR MOUNTAIN—STAMPEDE IN BUGLE CORPS—DESERTED—JOUR¬ 
NEY TO TIIE WEST—SENTENCED TO BE SHOT—PARDON BY THE PRKSI- 
DENT—WAS PUT INTO THE DRUM CORPS—BATTLE OF CHANCELLORSVILLE— 
TIIE SCUFFLE FOR THE COLORS—BAYONETED A REBEL—SECOND DESER¬ 
TION—ADVENTURES—TRANSFERRED TO CAVALRY. 

I N July, 1862, our regiment was at Front Royal, on the Shenan¬ 
doah. Here we stayed two weeks, then we marched under gen¬ 
eral Banks to Culpepper Court House. We pushed forward towards 
Cedar Mountain, where on the 9th of August there was one of the 
severest battles of the war fought. Our regiment, (102d N. Y.) left 
nearly one-half their men on that fatal field. At first the battle 
seemed to be in our favor; but our forces were gradually repulsed, 
and at last retreated rapidly; a panic seized my bugle corps, who 
were, of course, not in the fight, yet, I saw them run like a covey of 
partridges. I Mowed the call, but no answer came. After the battle 
was over, they came in slowly, but there were only two, that brought 
their bugles with them, and these were all mashed. I asked them 
where all their bugles were. They said they lost them. 

“ You are a nice set of lads, to lose your bugles,” said I. 
u And sure, I hung on to mine,” said Paddy Blake. 

“ Yes, I see, but it seems to have seen hard times, too,” said I. 

“ Still it is better to hang on to them than throw them away.” 
After the battle of Cedar Mountain followed those of the second 
Bull Run, Gfainsville and Antietam. After the battle of Antietam- 
I concluded to go home and see my friends. I took a “ french fur¬ 
lough,” and went to Philadelphia, where I spent about a week, then 
I started on a journey to the west again. I went to St. Joseph, on 
the Missouri, thence to Forrest City. Here I commenced to deal in 
live pork, which was then a very profitable business. After I 
had m^de a lot of stamps, I returned to New York, where I lived in 
a high style for a few weeks, then I went to Washington to join 
my regiment, which was then at Aqua Creek. Our colonel had 
resigned, and the former major of the regiment, was appointed in his 
place. When I came back to the regiment this new colonel had me 
court-martialed. I was convicted as a deserter and was sentenced to 
be shot. The day was set, upon which my earthly career was to have 
ended. But the President spoiled our fun by pardoning me. I 
would not have been shot even had the President withheld his par¬ 
don ; for my friends and myself had been busily at work to secure 
my escape. I had dug a ditch fifteen or twenty yards under ground, 
and one more night would have been sufficient time to complete my 
escape. The boys had the outside arrangements perfect to get me otf 
safely. My plan was to go over to the rebels and then go off to some 
foreign port. 


48 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


After I was pardoned, he colonel put me into the ranks. Here I 
was worthless, I got stubborn, and insisted upon having my position 
in the bugle corps. I told the colonel that I was pardoned and he 
could not punish me after that. He compromised the matter by put¬ 
ting me into the drum corps. I, however, at last got my old position 
again as chief bugler, which I kept until the spring of 1863. 

In the latter part of March, when general Hooker was getting ready 
to fight Lee at Chancellorsville, I made up my mind to try fighting in 
the ranks. I shouldered the musket and resolved to see how the 
fates would deal with me in the heat of battle. Every one knew 
that across the Rappahannock, would soon be fought one of the 
most important as well as most determined and bloody battles 
ever recorded in the world’s history. I was ambitious to take 
an active part in it. We crossed the river on the 30th of April, 
and the next day skirmishing commenced, and continued with 
more or less severity, all day. On Saturday the 2d of May, just 
before sunset, Stonewall Jackson fell on our right flank like a 
raging tiger, sending a terrible cross-fire through our ranks. The 
fight became exceedingly hot. The soldiers of the two armies 
were in close contact. Just in front of me were the confederate stars 
and bars; I made for them, seized hold of the flag staff, when I got 
a thundering blow over my nose, with the musket of a rebel, which 
so enraged me, that I seized my musket and run the fellow through 
with the bayonet. In the meantime our captain snatched away the 
colors, and took the bearer prisoner. You know how the battle 
ended, and therefore I’ll say no more about it. 

While I was at Aqua Creek, I wrote a letter to one of my friends 
and told him to write to me in the name of my aunt, that my uncle 
was very sick, that he was not expected to survive, and that he was 
anxious to see me. So when we returned to Aqua Creek, the letter 
was there. I took it and showed it to the colonel, and asked him for 
a furlough. He told me they would not give any furloughs now, 
that those who wanted to go home, had to go without. So I told him 
I would go. 

“ If you can go and come back,” said he, “ without being caught, 
all right, if otherwise, you will have' to take the consequences.” 

We received orders to march to Alexandria. When we got to 
Dumfries, it was night. Here I made up my mind was a good op¬ 
portunity to take my leave of the army. I deserted ; I. hid myself 
for a few days, until the whole army had passed. Then I started 
down Dumfries Creek to an island. I went to an old widow’s house 
and changed my uniform for a suit of her deceased husband. 

I found an old “ dug-out” half buried in the sand. I worked it 
out, stopped up the leaks; launched it into the creek, rowed down 
into the Potomac, which is very wide here; and crossed over on the 
Maryland side in the darkness of the night. The river was guarded 
that time on account of tbe smuggling that was then carried on so 
extensively. I passed several gunboats, but was not discovered. 1 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


49 


crossed the river in safety. I went to the farm house of a rebel 
sympathizer, and passed myself off as a confederate soldier from a 
Texas regiment They expressed their great pleasure in seeing me. 
I stayed several days at this place, becoming somewhat attached to 
their amiable daughter. They used me well. They showed me a 
discharge of a rebel, who had left it with them some time before. 
Seeing that the descriptions of the confederate corresponded very 
well with those of mine, I asked permission to borrow it for a 
few weeks- 1 told them that I wanted to go to Philadelphia and New 
York, but had lost my discharge. They willingly consented to let 
me have it. I took it and started off. I did not feel very comforta¬ 
ble in my suit, for it did not altogether fit me; still it answered my 
purposes very well until I got another. Near Ft. Washington, Md., 
I met a captain, whom I asked for a pass. He asked me who I was, 
and whether I had been in the army. I told him that I had been 
in the rebel army, but was discharged, and showed him my borrowed 
document. After examining it, he gave me a pass. I went on 
rejoicing ; took the cars to Philadelphia, where I bought a nice suit 
of clothes. In about a week I returned to Washington. I went 
back to my regiment and reported to the colonel, saying to him : 

“ Here I am safe and sound; I took your suggestion, now I hope 
you won’t punish me." 

u Where is your uniform ?” he asked. 

“ Traded it off." 

He got me a new uniform and told me to keep my finger on my 
mouth I answered that I could keep secrets as well as the next one. 

In a few weeks I made application to be transferred to a cavalry 
regiment. I pretended to be very patriotic; I told the officers, that 
I wanted to serve my country, &c. After having a good deal of fun 
with me, the officers had me transferred from the 102d New York, to 
the 19th Pa. cavalry. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

LETTER TO GENERAL—POSITION AS DETECTIVE—SCOUT—COURTSHIP OF SOUTH¬ 
ERN LADY—MARRIAGE—ADVENTURES AS A SPY. 

M Y cavalry regiment, (the 19th P. V.,) belonged to the army of 
the Cumberland, and was at Union City, Tennessee. I preferred 
to be with the western army. While I was in the cavalry service, I 
got a great desire to be a scout. So I sat down and wrote the follow¬ 
ing letter to general II-r, who then had his headquarters at St. 

Louis: 



50 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


R-’s Hotel, Union City, Dec. 10th, 1863. 

Dear General: 

Pardon me for my presumption in attempting to address you. I am 
a private in the 19th Pa. cavalry. I have served in the Union army 
in different capacities ever since the war commenced. My object in 
writing to you is to obtain if possible, another position, in which I 
think, nay I know, I can do much more service to my country than in 
the one I am now. That position is that of a scout. I think there is 
nothing in the world that would suit me better than to be a scout. It 
would suit my nature exactly; for I am a dashing fellow; I delight 
in undertaking perilous tasks. I have no relations to mourn my death 
—should that be the consequence in engaging in the hazardous duties 
of a scout. I have lost two brothers in the army for the Union, who 
were my only relations I had in the world. 

Dear general, I hope you will give me this position. You can do 
me no greater favor. I can not bear to be confined here with my regi¬ 
ment. I am almost tired to death. My nature is of a wild nomadic 
kind. I like to move from place to place, and exercise my own free 
will. I like adventures and everything belonging to the duties of the 
position I am applying for. 

I expect to receive a reply soon. ,1 am 
Very respectfully, 

Your ob’t serv’t 
Albert Teufel, 

19th Regt. Pa. Cavalry, 

R-’s Hotel, 

Union City, Tennessee. 

To Gen. J. H- r, 

Commander of- 


After sending this letter, I waited a few days patiently, but no 
answer came; then I got mad, thinking that the general had not no¬ 
ticed it. So I made up my mind to try to get into the detective corps. 
I went to the clerk and told him I wanted to join the detectives. He 
told me that could not be done. I offered him one hundred dollars 
if he would get me in. He looked at me for a moment and then said 
he would try. Money often makes impossible things, possible. He 
made out an order. And after running to about a dozen different of¬ 
fices, I was discharged from the 19th Pa. cavalry, and was transferred 
to the detective corps. I went to II-’s hotel, when I got the fol¬ 

lowing reply to my letter : 

Headquarters, &c., Dec. 15, 1863. 

Mr. Albert Teufel : 

Sir:—P lease report to me at my headquarters, immediately. 

Respectfully yours, &c., 

J. II- R . 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


51 


I took the cars to St. Louis, and went to the general’s headquarters, 
saluted him as politely as I knew how, and said, u I am at your ser¬ 
vice, general.” 

He reflected a moment, then he said: 

“ You are the young man who wrote me that letter, I suppose.” 

“1 am, sir.” 

“ Well, sir, to what regiment do you belong now ?” 

“I just obtained a position in the detective corps, sir.” 

“Ah—then I suppose you don’t care about this scouting busi¬ 
ness ?” 

“ Yes, sir, I’d prefer that.” 

He then examined me to find out whether I had any idea of what 
the duties of a scout were. After asking me several questions, he 
said:— 

“ Well, I guess you’ll do,” and proceeded to make out my passes. 

He got me a splendid steed, whom I called “ Charlie a sixteen 
shooter ; rebel clothes, and everything else to fix me out well. 

I saddled up my charger; put on my cavalry suit and reported at 
my regiment (19th P. C.) Here I had some fun, for the officers didn’t 
know what I was at since I had been with them last. They said I 
had been away without leave, and were going to put me on guard duty. 
T laughed at them, and told them that 1 was under higher authority 
than they were, and pulled out my passes. These I had secreted un¬ 
der false soles in my boots. When I left I bade them adieu, and as¬ 
sured them I would be back, by and by. 

That night I put on my rebel clothes; got my horse, and rode out 
about twenty miles, where I woke up a farmer and told him I was a 
confederate soldier; that I belonged to Roddy’s command. Roddy, 
as you know, was a noted rebel guerilla. The old man said he was 
glad to see me. It was towards morning. The whole family got up 
and showed me every attention they possibly could, and prepared an 
excellent breakfast. They told me I would better keep in the dark, 
for the Yanks had been there shortly before. I told them I knew 
where they were, that I kept a sharp look-out for them. They then 
began to converse freely. They asked me how John Smith, Felix 
Rroaddas and several others were, whom they knew, in Roddy’s com¬ 
mand. I told them they were very well, though I never saw any of 
them. The old man asked me my name; I told him it was Albert 
Magee. He then introduced me to the daughter, who played the piano 
for me and sang very prettily. Upon receiving information where the 
rebels were, I went back in a few days to my regiment and reported. 

When I left my regiment again the next morning, I rode towards 
Dyersburg. When I came to the Obion, the bridge over it having 
been previously burned, I swam my Charlie across the stream. Dy¬ 
ersburg is about twenty-five miles south of Union City. The Obion 
is half-way between the two places. From Dyersburg I rode to Jack- 
son, about forty miles from the place last mentioned. The country 
about here is very rough and thinly settled ; still, I erijoyed my riding 


52 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


about very much. At Newbern, a small village, I stopped, at a dis¬ 
tillery, where I spent some time. As it became known that I belonged 
to Roddy’s forces, I was asked a great many questions, the answers to 
which would soon have betrayed me had I not been so well acquainted 
with the country. Before the war I traveled through this part of 
Tennessee and Kentucky. While I tarried here, three young ladies 
rode up on horseback. They were southern ladies, natives of this part 
of Tennessee. I was introduced to them as one of Roddy's men. The 
young ladies said they were very giad to see me. I soon found that 
they were sharp ones, and that I had to be mighty careful what I said 
to them, or they would catch me in a lie. They rode out a great deal, 
and being very violent secessionists, they aided the rebels all they 
could. They were excellent scouts ;—for ladies were a kind of a privi¬ 
leged class in the time of war as well as in peace. If any Union sol¬ 
dier should have been impudent enough to have asked them what they 
were after, they would very saucily have replied that they were only 
taking a ride. 

These girls were three sisters, named respectively: Maggie, Mary 
and—Susie, I guess, the last one’s name was ; I almost forget. They 
asked me which way I was going. I told them I intended going to 
Dyersburg, thence to Trenton, and thence to Paris. 

“ That's just the route we had calculated taking,” said Maggie, 
smiling very pleasantly. 

“ That’s very fortunate,” said I, “ for then we may all ride together, 
unless you object.” 

“ Certainly, ” said Maggie, “ we shall be delighted to ride with one 
of Roddy's men.” 

My first inclination was to decoy them into the Union lines and 
have them arrested. But as we rode along, and talked I began to 
admire Maggie who rode by my side; Mary and Susie following us. 

When we got to Dyersburg, we stopped and put up for the night. 
The next day we proceeded to a small place called Mackleymoresville 
I believe. I do not know whether I spelled it right or not. On the 
road to this place Maggie said, we would get a private room to do 
business in, and consult as to our next day’s proceedings. 

When we arrived at Mackleymoresville, Maggie who was well 
known there, engaged a private room for us. Our horses were put 
away, and fed. In a short time we were called to tea. After tea we 
went back into our room, and chatted upon miscellaneous subjects. 

After I found that these girls were so thoroughly acquainted all 
over the States of Tennessee, Kentucky, Mississippi, Alabama and 
Georgia, I told them I had lived in Texas before the war, and all 
the information of that region of the country I bad, was derived 
during the war. I considered this lie to be necessary to account for 
any ignorance I might betray in my conversation upon localities. 

After we had fixed upon our route for the next day Mary and Susie 
retired. I suppose they saw that we could get along as well without, 
as with them. So we could, and if there had been any difference, it 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


53 


would have been in favor of their retiring. The more I saw of Maggie 
the more I became attached to her. She was a very pleasant girl and 
very intelligent. She was rather masculine, very bold, determined and 
daring. In appearance, she may be said to have been very beautiful. 
In stature she was a little above the female standard. Her head 
would reach a little above my shoulders when standing by my side. 
Her form was well developed, and full, yet not fleshy. Her shoulders 
were beautifully square; her bust full and perfect; her arms round 
and solid; her hands white and graceful; her face was round; her 
nose sharp and small; her eyes were black and piercing, when looking 
straight at you, you’d think she was looking through you. Her 
thick hair was black. Her motion was graceful and elastic. This 
was the lovely creature, that was left all alone with me in that private 
room. Alone, did I say? Yes, but she was able to take care of 
herself. My weakness again overcame me. For when I saw her 
sitting on the sofa, resting her head so gracefully upon her beautiful 
little hand with her other hand playing in the folds of her dress on her 
lap, turning up her large black eyes frequently as she became excited 
in conversation, I ventured to take a seat by her side. I took her 
hand in my right, pressed it gently; she, as gently returned it, which 
sent an electric shock through my whole nervous system. I threw my 
left arm around her waist and slowly drew her towards me. Heavens ! 
what a pleasant sensation crept over me as our bosoms touched. 
Perhaps she thought my affection was too ardent, for she gently 
pushed me back and began to talk of the propriety of retiring, that 
we might be wide awake in the morning. She rose and bade me 
good night and left me alone. I went to bed and tried to sleep, but, 
darn the thing, I couldn't. At last, I fell into a slumber, and 
dreamed very happy dreams, the nature of which you may imagine 
when I tell you that when I awoke in the morning, I had my arms 
around the bolster of my bed and was holding it tightly. 

The next day we turned our horses’ heads towards Trenton. We 
rode in the same order that we did the day before. It was a very 
pleasant morning. The sun rose clear ; and as he threw his soft rays 
over the mountains and lit up the dreary woods through which we 
galloped, I thought of Paradise, notwithstanding the roughness of the 
country. It was the most pleasant ride I ever had. Maggie seemed 
to me to be more beautiful and more lovely than ever. As we rode 
along our conversation turned upon a personal subject, which she 
managed very well, by little artful questions. I knew what she was 
driving at. She first managed to give me a good idea of their family 
and their circumstances; then, of course, I proceeded to give her a por¬ 
tion of my history. 1 told her that I was the son of William Magee, 
who owned a large plantation in Texas and above five hundred slaves. 
That as soon as the South had obtained their independence I intended to 
return, and again pursue my wonted peaceful avocation. 

“ I think I should like to live in Texas,” she said, after hearing my 
fictitious story. 


54 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


“ Would you, though ?” said I, looking smilingly at her. Then she 
blushed deeply, as she softly replied: 

“ Yes, I would.” 

“ Strike while the iron is hot!” thought I, and followed the answer 
up, by asking :— 

“ How would you like to go with me, as my wife ?” 

This was said half in fun, and she in the same manner replied : 

“ I would like it above all things.” 

Though it was said half in fun, it soon ripened into seriousness by 
the consent of both. 

When we arrived at Trenton we were married according to the 
established ceremonies of her church. 

We had a gay time at our wedding, for Maggie had a great many 
friends and admirers here, among whom were several confederate of¬ 
ficers. This was the happiest wedding I ever had. We were nearly 
crushed with congratulations. 

“ Maggie has married one of Roddy’s men !” was in the mouth of 
every one next day. 

After spending a few days at Trenton, I told Maggie I wanted to go 
to Prospect, to inspect the Yankee lines. Prospect is near the line of 
Alabama in Tennessee. My wife would, however, not consent to allow 
me to part so soon on so long and hazardous a journey, but insisted that 
I must go home to her mother’s with her first and spend a few days 
with her on their plantation. 

I, at last, consented. We had our horses brought, mounted them 
and off we rode. Mary and Susie were as merry as two crickets,—and 
we, not much less so. 

“ What will mother say, Maggie?” asked Mary, “ when you 
introduce one of Roddy’s guerillas, as your husband ?” 

“ 0, she will be pleased, but won’t she be surprised ?” answered 
Maggie and laughed merilly. 

“It’s a pity, father and brother Bobert ain’t at home,” added 
Susie. 

Their father and brother were in Gen. Johnston’s army, at Atlanta, 
Georgia. 

We rode on to Jackson, where we dined. Prom this place we had 
about twenty-five miles to my father-in-law’s plantation, which was 
about five miles from Decatursville on the Tennessee river. We 
arrived at Maggie’s home at about sun-set. 

“ My husband, mother, Mr. Albert Magee, one of Roddy’s men,” 
said Maggie after kissing her much delighted mother, who stood in the 
door anxiously awaiting the greetings of her daughters. 

“Your husband !—you are joking, Maggie !” said her mother not 
knowing how to take this introduction. 

“ Yes, indeed, mother,” said Mary, “ we met Mr. Magee at New- 
bern, and Maggie fell in love with him immediately, and Ta less than 
two days they got married, with our entire approbation.” 

“ I declare, Maggie, you are a great girl, to marry from home, with- 


OF ALBERT TEUFFL. 


55 


out letting me know a word about it,” said the surprised parent, as she 
took us into a fine, large, well-furnished parlor. 

“ I beg your pardon, mother/ 7 said I before sitting down, u in these 
times of war we do not act as deliberately and advisedly as in times 
of peace, and often make a move very suddenly.” 

We were seated, and after the girls had given their mother a hasty 
account of their journey, they excused themselves to change their 
dresses. I was taken into “ our room/ 7 as Maggie called it, where I 
washed, combed, and changed my linen 

After entering the parlor again the mother asked Maggie : 

“ Who did you say your husband was ?” 

Maggie jumped up and walking towards her, said : 

“Albert Magee,—his father has a large plantation in Texas, and 
owns over five hundred slaves. After the war is over and we are cut 
loose from the Yanks, we are g’wine to move to Texas.” 

After this speech of Maggie’s my new mother-in-law seemed to 
be more at ease. 

Seeing a very fine piano in the room and a big pile of sheet music 
on top, I asked the girls to give us a little entertainment with 
music. 

Maggie at once opened the large piano, sat down and drew forth 
delightful music from that, seemingly, dumb instrument. Soon Mary 
and Susie joined in and mingled their sweet voices with Maggie’s. 
I thought the harmony was heavenly. 

A whole week passed around before I left this delightful place, which 
I afterwards called “ home.” T was used so cleverly that I regretted 
that I was not what I represented myself to be. I think I was then 
quite a changed being. 

By aspiring, we are inspired, and that, in proportion to the degree of 
our aspirations. Every one, I believe, can be what he desires to be, 
providing he has faith and perseveres in his resolves, and the surround¬ 
ing circumstances are favorable. A man’s character is formed, it is 
true, in his youth. His parents, his teachers, and his companions all 
tend to modify his disposition. Their faults as well as their virtues, 
leave an impress upon the flexible mind of infancy, which it is difficult 
in after years to erase or even modify. My associates from my very 
infancy, have molded my character, and I could never make up my 
mind to change it. My extensive experience in the world with so 
widely different characters enabled me to assume, for a time, most any 
character, but, at length, my early formed disposition would get the 
better of me, and I fell again into my former nature. 

But to proceed with my narrative. I was regarded by the slaves of 
my father-in-law as their massa. I used them very roughly, making 
them hop about in good style. 

“ You lazy rogues, you think the Yanks will scon be here and free 
you,” I would often say to them, and lick the lazy niggers around 
there with a caution. This pleased the old woman. At one time she 
said when I whipped a big fellow for not heeding me: 


56 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


“ That’s right. They are becoming demoralized. They ought to 
have a man to keep them straight.” 

At length I told them I had to go to my duties. I took an 
affectionate leave of my wife and told her I would be back again in a few 
days. I crossed the Tennessee river and rode to the Union forces who 
were at Prospect on the Elk river. I showed the officers my passes 
then went to Roddy’s men pretending to act as a rebel spy. I told 
them to whom I was married and where the girls and I had been 
riding about. When I told them this they believed me and took me 
into their confidence. They were lying a short distance from Prospect 
between the Elk and Tennessee rivers. I learned where their hiding 
places were, their numbers and their objects. I learned that they in¬ 
tended to attack our men at Prospect where there was a small fort 
which wa9 held by a small force of Union soldiers. I discovered the 
plan of their proposed attack, where they intended to cross the Elk and 
on which side they expected to attack the fort I left the rebels and 
reported to the garrison at Prospect. 

I then went back to Jackson, to which place our regiment had 
moved. I saw our captain and had a long talk with him. Then I 
proceeded to the distillery at Newbern where I was to meet Maggie. 
She was there waiting for me. We had a gay time here, for here it 
was we first got acquainted. 

“ I thought something like this might happen when I saw you g’wine 
away to-gether,” said one of the men. I stayed with my wife until 
next morning, when I left for the Union lines. I met a squad of rebel 
guerillas. 1 told them I was going to examine the Union lines at 
Uuion City. Upon arriving at Onion City, we laid a plan to capture 
the rebels. I gave the captain all the necessary information to euable 
him to surround and capture them. They wentimmediaiely and took 
the whole squad prisoners. 

I went back to Newbern, and told Maggie what had happened. She 
said it was awful. I replied that it was too bad but could not be 
helped now. I said I came very near being caught, too. 

I then went to Dyersburg. I met another squad which I deter¬ 
mined to have caught too. I went to the captain and told my plans : 
these were, to go back to the rebs and make them believe they could cap¬ 
ture a portion of the Yanks, and to lead them on myself, so that they 
could surround us. 1 went back to the rebs, and gave them information 
of the strength of the Yanks, and said that they could capture a detached 
portion of men and horses. Off we started m the night, I at the head 
of them. When we came to the place we saw, no Yanks; then I said to 
the rebs: 

“ Why, they have cleared out.” 

As I said this our men rushed ont of their hiding places, and u halt! 
halt! halt! surrender!” we heard on every side. I struck my spurs 
into Charlie’s side and fired, being careful, however, not to hit any 
one. My horse made a tremendous leap, when half a dozen shots 
were fired after me, but high enough not to strike me. One of 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


57 


the rebels escaped too, but all the others were captured. The one 
who escaped went with me to Maggie and told her I had done the 
boldest thing he had ever seen. He said we got caught on a scouting 
expedition, and were completely surrounded, when I charged right 
through them, whilst a dozen were shootiDg after me. We then went 
home where I stayed a week. One day whilst the girls were scouting 
around they captured our captain, who, it seemed, had ventured too 
far from his company. They brought him home, one riding on each 
side of him, with their pistols in their hands, cocked. They handed him 
over to me He never let on that he had ever seen me before. It was 
in the evening when they brought him home. They had brought the 
captain to a halt by shooting him in the arm. Now they dressed his 
arm very kindly and well, yet, at the same time abusing him most 
shamefully with their tongues. 

During the night I watched him. After the family had retired I 
told the captain I was sorry he was wounded, but that I would get him 
off. I got the girls' pistols, drew out the loads and fixed them so they 
would not go off, and then put them back to their places again. The 
captain saw me do it. I then told him I would excuse myself, and 
persuade the girls to take him to Dyersburg and hand him over to the 
rebel authorities, and that when they got out a short distance, he should 
put, as hard as he could. He thought the plan was a good one. 

The next morning the girls said 1 had to take the captain to Dyers¬ 
burg. I excused myself upon the ground that I had to go in another 
direction. I urged them to take him as he was their prisoner. At 
last they consented. 

After again dressing the captain's arm they got ready to start. I 
got ready and started about the same time they did, and went into an 
oblique direction from them, our courses forming an obtuse angle. 
When they got away about a quarter of a mile I heard them call me. 
I put the spurs to my horse and rode across fences and everything that 
came in my way until I overtook the girls which was not, however, 
within the first five miles. They rode after the captain as hard as they 
could, though they could not shoot. 

When I caught up with them, they told me the captain had escaped, 
oh account of their pistols missing fire. I pretended to be as mad as 
thunder, spurred up Charlie, and said : 

“ I’ll catch him yet." 

11 Off I rode at a full run, soon leaving the girls, who had now given 
up the chase, and were riding along at a slow gallop, far in the rear. 
After riding about an hour I caught sight of the captain, and he of me. 
I beckoned him to wait. When I rode up to him he shook his head 
and said : 

u They gave me a devil of a chase." 

u Come along," said I, “ they are pursuing us yet, to see whether I 
succeed in catching you." 

The captain again spurred his jaded horse, and as we rode along, 
he said : 


58 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


“ They are bold girls; when I put the spurs to my horse and rode 
away from them, snap ! SDap! went their pistols, and, darn them, I 
could hardly get away, so fast they followed me.” 

When we came within a few miles of the Union lines I returned 
and met the girls galloping along, looking greatly disappointed because 
I did not bring the captain with me. They were very mad, and femi¬ 
ninely swore at their pistols, saying that there was something wrong 
at them. 

“ Let me see them, please,” said I. 

I took them and examined them, and handing them back again, I 
told the girls they should leave them just as they were until we got home 
when I would see what was tt wrong about them. We rode along slowly, 
for our horses were very tired. When we got home I took their pistols 
and went out, telling them that I would see if the other loads would go 
off. While I was walking out I fixed them all right again, and then 
tried them, when they did not miss fire once. 

“ There is nothing wrong with your pistols,” said I, after I returned 
them. 

I beg your pardon, sir,” said Mary, “ there was something unusual 
the matter, for my pistol never before missed fire.” 

“Nor mine,” added Susie. 

“jjWell, they were all right when I took them out,—for I discharged 
every load. I guess you didn’t icavt to shoot that nice Yankee 
captain. If I had known that, I would have taken him myself.” 

They were very much mortified, and could not understand the mys¬ 
tery. At last they blamed it on the old cat, saying that she must 
have been at their pistols. 

When I used to ride out on my expeditions I was often accompanied 
by rebel soldiers, who sometimes made me very indignant when they 
related to me how they treated our prisoners, though I would never 
exhibit my anger or disdain. But if I would get any one of these 
rascals out alone to some secluded spot, I would blow their brains out 
and nobody heard tell of them afterwards. Their horses I used to take 
to our company, where I got paid for them. 

Between the west branch of the Obion and Mississippi rivers is a 
low peninsula called the “Mississippi Bottoms.” This is a perfect 
wilderness, and served as a place of concealment for a set of bush¬ 
whackers, who very much annoyed our steamers going up and down 
the Mississippi. So while I was at*Troy to which place our regiment, 
had moved, being about ten miles below Union City, we laid a plan to 
capture a squad of these nuisances. 

One day I ve tured into this very rough country to make the 
acquaintance of the rebs. I soon found a company of them. I 
introduced myself to them, telling them that I was a rebel scout, 
related the adventures I had with the Yanks, and asked them how 
they were getting aloDg. They told me the steamer Marie-foresight 
was coming up the river, and they would like to capture her if they 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


59 


could, or if they could not do that they would annoy her considerably. 
After studying a little, I said: 

u I guess, I can gain some information that will be useful to you.” 

I started away and went to Troy and laid my plan before the captain, 
which was this: 

That a company of soldiers be put on board the steamer some 
distance below and at Hickman, a small place in the south-west corner 
of Kentucky, on the Mississippi, I would bring a squad of these 
bushwhackers, and would board the steamer with intention to capture 
her; and that as soon as we were all on board, the Union soldiers 
should take us prisoners; that I would jump into the river and make 
my escape. 

The plan was approved. The captain immediately took a company 
of soldiers below to the river, hailed the steamer which took them on 
board, whilst I went to the rebels and told them I had discovered a 
plan by which we could capture the steamer Of course, they wanted 
to know what it was. I told them I had discovered that she was to 
anchor at Hickman and stop a day or so, and that my plan was, to go 
there in the night, board her and take possession. They all agreed to 
this. So when the steamer arrived I asked the rebels to follow me. 
I left ray horse some distance off. After midnight we went to the 
town of Hickman which was secesh, and stealthily boarded the steamer; 
when all where on board, the soldiers rushed out and had us sur¬ 
rounded. All at once I fired a few shots, jumped overboard into the 
river, when a whole volley was fired after me into the water; indeed, 
they shot so close to me that I was afraid they would hit me ; but 
being a good swimmer I soon reached the shore some distance below 
the town. The bushwhackers were safe on the boat. I went back to 
old Hickman, a rebel, who knew that we went on board with intent to 
take her, and said to him : 

“ Those fellows ain’t worth a damn to allow those Yanks to take 
them. Why they did not fire a shot. I would rather be drowned 
than be taken by them. ,, 

tl You are certainly a courageous fellow,” he replied. 

I got my horse, rode off into the thicket where I took my sixteen 
shooter and shot the rim of my hat full of holes as well as my coat 
tail; then I went home and showed ray wife what a narrow escape I 
had made. She admired my daring and courage very much. 

In the spring of ’61 I tried another strategem. The rebels were 
always greatly bent on horse stealing. So one day I made arrange¬ 
ments with my regiment to decoy a parcel of guerrillas into a snare. 
After having a thorough understanding with our men, I went to the 
rebels and informed them where we could steal a lot of horses. So 
we made up a party of six each on horseback, went to the Yankee 
camp, and, having myself provided beforehand with a small bottle of 
chloroform or what I pretended to be such, I told the rebs I wanted 
to go into the stable and put the guard soundly to sleep. Soon I came 


60 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


back and told them to come on. When we came in the guards were 
snoring loudly. 

“ You gave them enough,” whispered one; and laughed. 

Each of us took a horse and led him out, mounted ours and rode 
quietly away. In returning we had to go through a deep cut in the 
road, and when we got fairly into this cut, “ halt! halt! surrender! 
surrender!” we heard from before and behind us. This time I suffered 
myself to be taken with the others to avoid raising a suspicion among 
the secessionists. We were taken back and put into iron cages. The 
five rebs were put into one cage and I was locked up alone in another. 
The rebel citizens came in to see us frequently and when they came to 
me the guard would be very inattentive what was said, or given to me. 
So I told them to bring some keys and instruments by which I could 
effect my escape. This they did very willingly. I cautioned them, 
however, to do it secretly. They brought me keys, saws, and all kinds 
of instruments, by means of which I opened my cage one night and 
walked out. I then proceeded to the cage of my fellow horse-thieves 
and pretended to assist them to get out, too, but about that time the 
guard came along and gave the alarm. I ran out, got my horse, for 
I knew where he was, and rode off to my home. I told my wife all 
that had happened when she said, that, though I was very fortunate, 
I had generally bad luck in the execution of my plans. I thought I 
had good luck, though I did not tell her so. 

In a few days I went back for my pay, for I was always paid for 
every horse I would be the means of capturing. This time I received 
a large sum„ for each rebel had a fine horse. I took the money home 
and showed it to Maggie, telling her that I had almost captured a 
Yankee paymaster, who upon being pursued too closely, threw away his 
box which I picked up and in it found this money. She laughed and 
said she wished I had caught him, too. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

DESERTION OF MAGGIE—ROUTE TO ST. JOSEPH—INTRODUCTION TO KATY DOYLE 
—DEALING IN LIVE STOCK AT ST. JOSEPH—RETURN TO THE EAST—ANOTH¬ 
ER MARRIAGE—DEATH OF SIXTH WIFE. 

B EING tired of the scouting business and having my pockets full 
of money, L resolved to enter upon another scene in the great 
theatre of the world. I had been very successful, thus far in playing 
soldier, and I feared I might perhaps be discovered and end my days 
in an ignominious death, should I attempt much longer to deceive my 
southren brethren. So I proposed to Maggie to go on a visiting tour 
to her friends, which proposition was gladly accepted. The first place 



OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


61 


we visited was Prospect. Here we spent over a week, calling on 
Maggie's friends, going to balls, dancing, and having a general good 
time. I soon got tired, however, of this visiting ; so I took Maggie 
home again and told her I intended making a tour through the North, 
to see how the Yankees were getting along• and that I would be back 
again in a few weeks. She did not seem to approve of this new no¬ 
tion of mine, for she feared I would never return. But upon assur¬ 
ing her that I would, she, at last, urged no further objections, and 
passively consented. When I took leave of her she looked very sor¬ 
rowful, and finally burst into tears. She seems to have noticed my 
uneasiness and, perhaps, my coldness towards her, for the last few 
wee^s, and I think she had some vague misgivings in regard to my 
future intentions. 

I had my Charlie brought up, mounted him and rode away, and 
never afterwards saw my Maggie, with whom I spent the happiest 
portion of my life. 

I went to Troy, thence to Union City, where I exchanged my rebel 
uniform* for a Yankee one. Then I proceeded to Cairo, where I 
stayed a week ; sold my horse and then took the cars for home. 
After spending some time in Philadelphia, I returned to the West 
again. I stopped at Columbus, Ohio, where I met some of my former 
acquaintances, with^whom I spent several days in following our old 
pastimes. It was here that I was first introduced to Katy Doyle, with 
whose beauty I was fascinated. I visited her frequently during the 
month I stopped in Columbus. Leaving Columbus I went to St. 
Louis ; from St. Louis I took the cars again to Macon, thence to St. 
Joseph. Here I commenced to deal in live stock again ; buying live 
hogs at one and two dollars a hundred, shipped them to St. Louis, 
where I sold them for six and seven dollars. In this way I soon ac¬ 
cumulated a large sum of money. 

In the fall of '64 I returned to Columbus, visited Katy, who ex¬ 
pressed a desire to-see her parents, who lived in Camden, New Jersey. 
I volunteered to take her home and back again. This, she thought, 
was a very kind and liberal offer, which she could not decline accept¬ 
ing. We had a very pleasant journey to Philadelphia, where we 
were duly married. I will not detail to you the circumstances of the 
marriage, nor the manner in which I “ popped the question," for I 
fear I am tiring you with my many love stories. 

After being married we crossed the Delaware and called at my sixth 
wife’s parents, where we spent our honey-moon. After spending a 
week in Camden we went back to Columbus, and commenced house¬ 
keeping. In the next spring my wife became suddenly ill and on the 
first of May she died. I buried her in a Christian manner, sold out 
and returned to Philadelphia. 


62 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE LOT IN HAYCOCK—BOATING—ABOUT STEALING THE MONEY AT THE TOLL- 
GATE—ARREST AND IMPRISONMENT—DISCHARGED BY JUSTICE FOR WANT 
OF EVIDENCE. 

I N 1863 I gave my mother some money to buy a lot in Haycock 
township, Bucks county. She was sick and gave the money to 
my father, who bought the lot of Frank Kerner, and had the deed 
made in his own name. My mother soon afterwards died. When I 
returned from Columbus, in 1865, I went to this lot and tried to im¬ 
prove it. I hired men to work on it, cleared a part of it, and culti¬ 
vated several acres. I Commenced boating on the Pennsylvania and 
Delaware canal. After making one trip I took my team home to 
work on my lot. 

After working awhile on my little farm, (I called it my farm be¬ 
cause my money paid for it and for the improvements, on it,) I 
bought the old man’s team and went at boating again. I had a 
great deal of difficulty in getting a good boy to assist me. One that 
I had was so infernal lazy that it was almost too much for him to carry 
his sluggish carcass with him. His brother came on the boat one day 
amd steered for him. When I got on the boat I found him lying 
under the feed box, fast asleep. I dragged him out and threw him 
overboard into the canal. This woke him up; I helped him out 
again, after making him swim a little while and exercise his lazy 
limbs. He soon after ran off, then I sold out to the old man, or rather 
gave him my team, for he never paid me a cent for it, and went to 
New York, thence to Philadelphia. Here I resolved to go out West 
again. But before I left I concluded to go home to see my relatives 
first. 

I went to Doylestown, hired a team at Kulp’s hottl, drove up to 
the Cowell House, where my cousin was hired, and asked her to go 
with me. She got permission of her mistress, and went with me. 
The roads were awful. 

When we came to the toll-gate this side of Plumsteadville, I stopped 
to pay the toll. Having no small change with me I gave the gate¬ 
keeper a five dollar bill. He took it into the house and after a devil¬ 
ish while brought out a whole handful of stamps, or postal currency. 
It was in the evening and very dark. 

“ How the devil do you expect me to count all this stuff?” said I. 
In the meantime, another carriage drove up. The gate-keeper went 
to collect the toll, while I jumped out of the buggy, took the money 
and spread it out on the floor inside of the door to count it. I soon saw 
that my five dollar bill was among the change, when, being satisfied 
that I had enough change I grabbed it up again, and said : 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


6 : 


(l Damn it, I guess it’s all right ;” jumped into the wagon and drove 
off. 

u You counted that change pretty quick,” said my cousin. 

“I am satisfied,” said I, “ for the fool gave me back my five dol¬ 
lars and a whole handful of change in the bargain.” 

I had intended to give him back the bill next day when I returned, 
after teasing him a little about it. But when we reached Bucksville 
the coupling-pole of our carriage broke, and I had to stop and get it 
repaired, at the blacksmith shop, which detained me a whole day 
longer than I had expected to stay. Next morning I heard there was 
a warrant out for my arrest. When I went to the blacksmith to fetch 
my carriage, the constable and gate-keeper drove up. 

“ Stop !” said the constable, when I was about driving away. 
“ This man gave you too much change last night at the toll-gate, be¬ 
low.” 

u Did he though ?” said I. 

“ Yes, sir; we want you to give back the five dollar bill.” 

“ Ah-ha.h !” thinks I, “ you are a constable and you want to catch 
me:—I am not as green as you think.” 

If I had not heard of the warrant, and the gate-keeper had come 
by himself, I would have returned him the money. But I thought if I 
would give up the money now, they would nab me and put me to jail. 
So I concluded that the constable might get it if he could, and told 
them I would be in Doylestown to-night, if they wanted to see me. 

The cowardly fellows did not arrest me, then. I drove to my 
cousin’s folks, and in the evening we started for Doylestown. But 
before we started, I concluded to have some fun, anyhow. When I 
w 7 ent up, I was dressed in light pantaloons and vest, and a black cloth, 
swallow-tailed coat. I changed this suit at my aunt’s, for an entirely 
different one. 

When I arrived at Ottsville, the bar-keeper called me aside and 
volunteered to tell me a secret. He then went on to tell me that 
,there was a warrant out for my arrest, &c., and that I would better 
go to Doylestown by another road. 

“ I know all about it, sir,” said I, il I’m going right through the 
toll-gate;—they may arrest me, and be d—d; 1 stole no money, at 
the toll-gate.” 

We drove on; when we came to the toll-gate,—there was the jus¬ 
tice of the peace and one or two others, and a team hitched behind 
the toll-house. I stopped to pay my toll; they brought out a big 
light, when I heard one say :— 

‘ £ It is the team, but not the man.” 

I paid three cents and drove off. Soon I heard a wagon come rip¬ 
ping along behind. I looked back and saw that it was the same team 
that I saw standing behind the toll-house. Then I knew that they 
were after me. I drove, at first, like thunder ; but they managed to 
keep up with me. So I tried another plan to worry them. I stopped, 
and pretending something was broke at my wagon, got off and com- 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


64 

menced to knock away at the coupling-pole, until they passed me. 
Then I drove on behind. 

When we arrived at Doylestown, I drove to the Cowell House, un¬ 
loaded my cousin, gave her my valise, and drove on to Kulp’s hotel. 
Kulp had been very uneasy, when I did not return at the appointed 
time, for, reports were very busily circulated that I had offered to 
sell his team, and all kinds of rumors spread rapidly along our route. 
I told Mr. Kulp, I had a break-down, which accounted for my not 
returning in the morning. He examined the wagon, and said it was 
better now than it had been, and charged me only five dollars for the 
hire of the team. I called up the house to drink ; and a darn big one 
it was. After we all drank several rounds, in came a young fellow 
and tried to read a warrant to me. He had a hard time at it, and 
such a name as he had in it, I never heard. 

“ I'm not your man; boy, you’ve got the wrong cuss this time, I 
have no such d—n name as that/’ said I to the nonplused would-be 
constable, and refused to go with him. 

I treated the house again ; and|again, we took several rounds, and 
by this time we were all pretty well—roostered. At last the young 
constable’s daddy came in, and read the warrant. I then consented 
to go with him, for I soon saw that he understood his business. He 
was the High Constable of Doylestown Borough. He took me up town 
to the 'squire’s office to get a commitment. It being now about mid¬ 
night, the old 'squire had of course retired. The constable called 
him; after a little, an old fellow poked his head out of the window and 
asked what we wanted. 

“ I want a wa-wa-warrant, sir," said I. 

“ I want a commitment," hollowed the constable, who had also been 
taking a few drinks with us before we started. 

“ No, sir, I want a w-a-r-r-a—n-t," I kept on hallooing. 

The justice growled a little and in went his head; that was the 
last we saw of him. After waiting some time and no 'squire making 
his appearance, the inveterate old constable took me to jail; wakened 
up the fat and jolly sheriff, who was soon at the door and admitted 
us into his office. My object was to detain the officers as much as 
possible, for I did not like the idea of going into the rear depart¬ 
ments. So we had a good time with the clever sheriff. There was 
some sharp-shooting between us, for he was going to have a little fun 
at my expense. He, however, soon abandoned the conflict. I then 
asked for a good lawyer. There were several persons in the room, 
who mentioned the names of the most prominent lawyers in the town, 
and a certain remark which accompanied the naming of a certain 
lawyer, induced me to say: 

“ He is just the man I want. Send for him, sheriff, early to-mor¬ 
row morning." 

When I was taken out of the sheriff’s office, and put into jail, I 
heard one of my friends from the tavern, murmur : 

“ It's a damn shame to put that fine looking young man back there." 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


65 


So it was, and especially for such an offence. But looks had noth¬ 
ing to do with the question. I was taken into a room where I found 
a bed, of course, comfortable enough for a prisoner ; but I had seen 
some before in which I would rather have slept. The next morning I 
was roused up, and summoned to breakfast; but for such a breakfast I 
had no appetite; I respectfully declined eating it. My counsel was sent 
for, and when he arrived we had a short private consultation, after which 
the constable took me in charge. I hired a team to take my lawyer 
and witness to Plumstead to the justice before whom I was to have 
my hearing. The constable wanted me to pay him for taking me, but 
I refused, and told him if he did not want to take me, I had no ob¬ 
jections to staying in Doylestown. He took me, however, without 
the pay. When we arrived at the justice’s office, I went before the 
magistrate and declared that I was innocent of the crime with which 
I was charged. That I had not been out of the carriage. But he did 
not seem to be satisfied with my statement, and proceeded to examine 
the prosecutor. After the justice was through with him, my counsel 
gave him such a cross-fire, that he seemed to have perfectly demoral¬ 
ized him. He knew nothing then, his w 7 hole testimony was,—like 
the Frenchman’s lemonade—a grand contradiction. He did not know 
where the money was taken from, or in fact, he was not sure that 
there was any money taken at all. The money box, he said at one 
time, was setting on the window"; at another, that it was in the chest, 
and again that it was in the chimney corner, and at last he did not 
know where it was. This was the evidence against me. 

My witness was then examined, who testified that I had not been 
out of the wagon. This put an end to the case and I was discharged 
upon motion of my counsel. 


CHAPTER XV. 

JOURNEY TO THE WEST AGAIN AND BACK—BOATING—DURHAM FURNACE— 
CHARGED WITH LARCENY-JOURNEY THROUGH THE SOUTH. 

A FTER being discharged from the custody of the constable, and 
being again allowed to follow my own inclination, I returned to 
Doylestown in the team I had hired, and took the cars to Philadel¬ 
phia that same day; and the same night started for the West again. 
I continued my journey until I reached St. Joseph. Here I entered 
into my former business, finding that I could accumulate money faster 
in that business than any other. I was not here long before I re¬ 
ceived a letter that there were some grave charges made against me 
by my step-mother. I returned and went home to settle the difficulty 
between us, but I did not mend the matter much by so doing. 



66 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


I went to Easton where I spent a few days, and at last, made up 
my mind to go at my old business again—that ofboating. I got em¬ 
ployment of Mr. Donnelly, in boating pig-iron on the Hudson. I 
continued at tins, until the 13th of December, 1865. Then I went 
to Philadelphia, where I stayed a week, and then went home to Hay¬ 
cock, where I loafed around for some time, but at last, I obtained 
employment at the Durham Furnace. I boarded at McCarty’s hotel. 

I did not work there long, when I was informed that there was not 
work enough to employ all the hands, and of course, I, being the last 
one employed, was discharged. 

Being thrown out of work again, I resolved to take another jour¬ 
ney. I tried to persuade some of the hands to go with me. A Mr. 
Johnson and I were chums, and began to understand each other 
pretty well. So one night,—we went to a dance, where we were 
rather gay chaps. When returning to our boarding place, Johnson 
said : 

“ Al, I am tired of the furnace ; let’s go out west if you’d like to 
go, I’m willing to follow you, wherever you go.” 

So we packed up and left. We went through Applebachsville to 
Quakertown, where we took the cars to Philadelphia. We thenheard 
that an Englishman’s trunk had mysteriously made its appearance 
from McCarty’s about the time we left; and that he charged us with 
having feloniously stolen it. But we were innocent of that charge, for 
had we been inclined to steal, we would have taken something not as 
cumbersome as a trunk; especially when we had to make our way on 
foot. 

We left Philadelphia and took the following tour: 

Washington was the first place we visited. We stopped here a few 
days sporting around, then we went on to St. Louis; from St. Louis 
we went to New Orleans; from New Orleans to Charleston, South 
Carolina; here I procured Johnson a position on the cars as fireman, 
and I proceeded to Wilmington, North Carolina; thence to Goldsboro’; 
from Goldsboro’ I pursued my journey to llaleigh, where I stayed 
until May, 1866. I then returned to Wilmington, whence I took the 
steamer to Baltimore. From Baltimore I proceeded to Philadelphia, 
thence home; thus completing my last and most extensive tour of my 
life. I made my money as 1 went along by gambling. It is true, my 
purse was considerably lighter when I came home, than it was when I 
started, but I spent much of other rogues’ money, for which I never 
gave any consideration except my company at the gambling table. 

After reaching home I made preparations to begin boating again. I 
fixed up my team and ringing and boated until October. By this time 
I had my purse pretty well replenished, and began to loaf about, attend 
political meetings, got drunk and played the part of a ruffian generally. 
At a political meeting at Stony Point I got into a little row which is 
so fresh that many of my readers will remember more about it than I 
do, for whiskey had such a control of me that my recollection of the 
affair is anything but distinct. 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL 


67 


CHAPTER XVI. 

DAN RICE’S CIRCUS AT DOYLESTOWN—REFLECTIONS ON MULE-STEALING—BOARD¬ 
ING AT NO. 488, THIRD STREET—ARREST AND CONY EYANCE TO DOYLESTOWN 
JAIL—EFFORTS TO BREAK JAIL—SOLILOQUY. 

I TRADED my boating mule for a horse, which I took to Phila¬ 
delphia and sold. On my way to the city I stopped at Doylestown, 
where Dan Rice had pitched his grand circus and menagerie. I tar¬ 
ried here a day to witness Dan’s exhibitions. In the evening I saddled 
and bridled my horse and rode to Philadelphia, where I sold him 
the next day before noon, for seventy-five dollars. 

In a few days after, I went up the river in search of mules. I 
found a nice pair of long-ears rather further up country than I had 
thought of going. They constituted a boat team, and were worth 
over three hundred dollars. I made up my mind to borrow them, 
or, more technically speaking,—steal them. They were both together 
in a stable, and I had some difficulty in getting them out. Mule¬ 
stealing is rather a hazardous business, much more so than horse¬ 
stealing. Indeed, I think that a man who steals a mule and success¬ 
fully escapes with him, performs a great feat, and should be rewarded 
by some government appointment for his skill and bravery, rather 
than be arrested and sent to the penitentiary for five or six years. 

A mule is very different from a horse; he is treacherous, self- 
willed ; his bump of firmness is very large ; his affability, very small; 
he is slow in making acquaintances; averse to strangers; and with 
his large combativeness he is apt to greet a night-visitor with a shak¬ 
ing of the heels. His inhabitiveness is large also, which inclines him 
to gdhere to home and friends. This is a short description of the 
phrenological developments of the mule species. 

When I entered the stable where the aforesaid asses were domiciled, 
I spoke to them kindly, when they sprang forward and, at once, put 
themselves into a defensive attitude. Gradually, by much petting, I 
succeeded in gaining the confidence aud good will of one, which I led 
out of the stable; but as soon as I was outside the stable, “ Hah - 
ah-hah-ah-hah-ah-hah-ah-hah-ha!” hollowed the other, with 
the most provoking and dangerous loudness. I tied the first one to 
a post and hurried back to quiet the other, but was unsuccessful, so I 
concluded to take him along too, and while loosening him the one 
outside commenced his horrible calls. I was afraid every minute 
that their owner would hear the alarm, and would discover me. I 
succeeded, however, in getting them off safely. I took them to 
Philadelphia and sold them. 

Sometime afterward I made another raid on some mules in Bristol, 
captured one, took him to the city and sold him. 


68 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


About a week after I bad disposed of my last mule, I rented a room 
for myself and better-half in Third street, No. 488, where I was ar¬ 
rested several weeks afterward, upon a charge of stealing a mule from 
Charles Weik, of Bristol. What I did the four or five days prior to 
my arrest, I may tell you some other time. Suffice it to say now, 
that on the Saturday night before the Tuesday upon which I was 
arrested, James Wiley, the captain of the canal boat Ohio, was mur¬ 
dered on his boat near Trenton. Harman Rick, who was the only 
person known to have been on the boat beside Wiley, was taken on 
the Monday after the murder was committed to Boylestown, to the 
office of the district attorney, where he, reluctantly, charged me with 
having been the agent that caused Wiley’s death. 

The district attorney immediately sent the following telegram to 
the mayor of Philadelphia :— 

Doylestown, Nov. 26, 1866. 

To Morton McMichael, 

Mayor of Philadelphia : 

Sir :—Capt. James Wiley was murdered last Saturday night, on 
his boat in the canal, near Trenton. One Albert Biveler alias Teufel 
is alleged to be his murderer. You will please inform your police. 
Heavy rewards will soon be offered for his arrest. 

Teufel is a young man about twenty-five years old ; five feet nine 
inches in stature; black hair; no whiskers; dark complexion; a 
little stooped in the shoulder; has a rapid gait, and generally wears 
his hat over his right eye. When last seen, wore a long black coat, 
light, plaid pantaloons and a slouch hat. Let there be a sharp look¬ 
out for him. 

R. L. Cope, 

Bist. Attorney. 

The above despatch was sent in the morning. In the evening of 
the same day another was sent offering a reward for my arrest, as fol¬ 
lows : 

Boylestotvn, Nov. 26, 1866. 

To Mayor McMichael. 

The Commissioners of Bucks county offer a reward of one hundred 
dollars for the arrest of Teufel. 

R. L. Cope, B. A. 

On Tuesday morning the following reward was offered by Mr. Cope, 
as I understand, upon his own responsibility, which shows with what 
determination he pursued me. 

Boylestown, Nov. 27, 1866. 

To Mayor McMichael : 

The reward for the arrest of the murderer, Teufel, has been in¬ 
creased to five hundred dollars. 


R. L. Cope, B. A. 


OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


69 


Similar despatches, I believe, were sent to other principal cities and 
towns, and handbills containing the above description and offering the 
above reward were sent all over the country. And on Tuesday noon, 
Charles Weik, two other Germans, and John T. Murray, sergeant of 
police, came to my boarding place to arrest me. They sent a little 
girl up stairs to my room to request me to come down into the bar¬ 
room, that they wanted to pay me some money that one of them owed 
me. I did not go, for I knew who it was that thus tried to decoy me into 
the bar-room where they might easily arrest me. Some more police¬ 
men were sent for, and as soon as they arrived they came up stairs 
and arrested me. I made no resistance to the policemen, but having 
a little hatred against the Germans, I made a rush for them, and had 
the policemen not caught me, I would certainly have hurt them. 
They would never have commited me. I was taken to the station 
house upon the charge of stealing a mule. Having secured me in a 
cell, sergeant Murray sent Mr. Cope the following despatch :— 

Phila. Nov. 27, 1866. 

To R. L. Cope, Esq., District Attorn*y: 

Sergt. Murray has a man answering the discriptions of the mur¬ 
derer. J. T. Murray, 

Station House, 3d, below Green. 

To which the District Attorney replied as follows : 

Doylestown, Nov. 27, 1866. 

To Sergt. Murray, 

3d St., below Green: 

Hold the prisoner. I will send a man down to-night to identify 
him. 

It. L. Cope, 

, Dist. Attorney. 

On the same night, Messrs. Rogers and McIntyre came to my cell 
about half past eight, and took a good look at me, then proceeded to 
thejtelegraph office and sent the following laconic despatch : 

Phila. Nov. 27, 1866. 

To R. L. Cope : 

It is the man. 

J. M. Rogers. 


The District Attorney then telegraphed the following to Murray: 

Doylestown, Nov. 27. 

To Sergt. Murray : 

Bring the prisoner to Doylestown to-morrow morning. 

R. L. Cope, D. A. 


70 


LIFE AND CONFESSIONS 


Sergt. Murray the next morning induced the Alderman to waive 
his right to hold me for another hearing and to permit them to take 
me to Doylestown according to the request of district attorney Cope. 
The alderman surrendered me, and I was taken to Doylestown in the 
morning train, in the custody of sergt. Murray and lieutenant Franks. 
When we arrived in Doylestown and marched through the town to 
the jail, a great throng of men and boys followed us. I was commit¬ 
ted by esquire J. B. Pugh, upon the charge of the larceny of two 
other mules belonging to one Metzgar, who had lodged information 
against me. 

Harman Pick was immediately sent for, and in the evening, upon 
his arrival, I had another hearing and was finally committed upon the 
charge of murder. I was manacled and put into a cell in the right 
wing of the jail building. During the night I thought I saw something 
in my cell in the shape of a ghost. Its form was very indistinct, and 
irregular; it had no human shape, nor could I compare it to any 
other creature ) but I certainly saw something either in the room or 
in my imagination. I stood up and struck at it and cursed it so loudly 
that I was overheard in the adjoining room. The next day I was 
taken into the left wing, into the room I now occupy. 

I have been in this prison since the 27th day of November, A. D. 
1866. On the fifth day of December following, I was taken into court 
to be tried, but on motion of my counsel, my trial was postponed 
until the next sessions ; and on the sixth day of February, 1867, the 
district attorney called my case up again, but it was again postponed 
until the next day, on account of the non-attendance of my witnesses. 
The officer was dispatched to the city to make diligent search for my 
absent witnesses, but failing to find them, or any evidence of the 
existence of the individuals whose names I gave to the officer, the 
court declared that, as there was no proof of the existence, or any 
knowledge of the whereabouts of these alleged witnesses, and the 
district attorney pressing the trial, there was no good reason for again 
putting off the case, and directed the trial to proceed.* A jury was 
empanneled, which rendered their verdict against me, on the 12th, 
of guilty of murder of the first degree. On the 13th I was 
sentenced to be hung, and on the 13th of March following the sheriff 
read to me the following death warrant :— 

In the name and by the authority of the Commonwealth 

PENNSYLVANIA, SS. 

J. W. GEARY. 

John W. Geary, 

Governor of said Commonwealth. 

To John E. Corcoran, High Sheriff of the County of Bucks. 

Sends Greeting: 

Whereas, at a Court of Oyer and Terminer and General Jail 
Delivery, held at Doylestown, in and for the County of Bucks, in this 


Pennsylvania. 


*Sfe Appendix for a synopsis of the trial* Editor. 



OP ALBERT TEUFEL. 


71 


Commonwealth, at the February Sessions, A. D. 1867, a certain 
Albert Teufel was indicted for the crime of murder, and was, on 
the twelfth day of February, A. D. 1867, found guilty of murder in 
the first degree , and was thereupon, on the 13 th day of February, A. 
D. 1867, sentenced by the Court, “ that he, Albert Teufel, the 
prisoner, be taken hence to the common jail of Bucks county, from 
whence he was brought, and from thence to the place of execution, at 
such time as shall be appointed for his execution, and that he then 
and there be hanged by the neck until he is dead.” 

Now therefore, this is to authorize and require you, the said John 
E Corcoran, High Sheriff of the County of Bucks, as aforesaid, to 
cause the said sentence of the said Court of Oyer and Terminer to be 
executed upon the said Albert Teufel, between the hours of ten 
o’clock in the forenoon, and three o’clock in the afternoon, of Thurs¬ 
day, the eighteenth day of April, Anno Domini one thousand eight 
hundred and sixty seven, in the manner directed by the seventy-sixth 
section of the Act of the General Assembly of this Commonwealth, 
approved the thirty-first day of March, Anno Domini, one thousand 
eight hundred and sixty, entitled, “ An act to consolidate, revise and 
amend the laws of this Commonwealth relating to penal proceedings 
and pleadings,” and for so doing, this shall be your sufficient Warrant, 

Given under my hand and the Great Seal of the State, at Harris¬ 
burg, this twelfth day of March, in the year of our Lord one thousand 
eight hundred and sixty-seven, and of the Commonwealth the ninety- 
first. 

By the Governor : F. Jordan, 

Secretary of the Commonwealth. 

So ends my story. 


SOLILOQUY 


0 ! these accursed chains! this gloomy cell! 

How I abhor them ! 0, that I were free 
But once again ! These shackles cling to me 
With a firm hold. They keep from me my freedom. 

My wild and roving spirit, thus chained down ! 

0, for a mouthful of free air, once more ! 

Eighteenth of April! Fatal day ! But then 
My soul from earthly bondage will be freed. 

Ah ! whither will it roam ? That is the question. 

Will it be free to wander whither it 
Listeth ? If so, then come, thou dreaded day ! 

Come quickly ! for I long to fly from earth away. 

Who then will me control ? No one ? If not 
Then I’ll return, I’ll haunt this hateful cell. 

Mine enemies I’ll visit in their sleep, 

And I’ll disturb the quiet slumbers of 
The authors of my ruin. But, who are they ? 

My friends will I assist in danger and 

Despair. Who are my friends ? Where have they been 

In my great need ? 0, now, I have no friends. 

All have forsaken me. Ah ! wretched man 
I am ! W ho cares for me, when I’m in deep 
Distress ? No one. Let me lie down and sleep. 

I’m happy then ; for I live in the land 
Of dreams. For when my eyes are closed in sleep, 

My reason dormant; then my soul steals 
Away to pleasant climes and merry friends. 

Let none disturb me, then ; but let me sleep 
Forever ! Is death an eternal sleep ? 

0, that it were ! Then I’d rejoice at its 
Approach. But ah ! the gallows ! and the rope ! 

The swing! Horrible thoughts ! 0 grave, thou wilt 
Triumph ! 0 death, thou hast a sting! Repent! 

Yes, how can I repent, that know no God ? 

No Christ? 0 wretched state ! 0 deep despair ! 
Despair ? Is there not still some hope for me ? 

Can not my frightful end be checked, avoided ? 

Ah ! I fear not. Yet, something may turn up. 

I may escape. Have I not taken off 
A dozen manacles ? and have not I 
Removed these shackles thrice ? Have I not oft 
Escaped before ? But then I’m watched too close. 
There is no hope ; is there ? — I know there’s not. 
Where is my pipe and my tobacco? Jake ! 






























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TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL, 

FOR THE 

MURDER OF JAMES WILEY. 


C OURT of Oyer and Terminer and General Jail De¬ 
livery. 

COMMONWEALTH vs. ALBERT TEUFEL. 

Henry Chapman, president judge; Henry Troxel and Joseph 
Morrison, associates. 

For the Commonwealth, the District Attorney, and H. P. Ross, 
esquire. 

For the prisoner, Elias Carver and Richard Watson, esquires. 

On Wednesday morning, the 6th of February, 1867, at 11 o’clock, 
the district attorney moved to proceed to trial in the case of the 
Commonwealth vs. Albert Teufel. 

The court house being already comfortably filled, as soon as this 
announcement was made the large crowd that had been lingering 
about the court house the whole week, to witness the trial of this 
notorious young man, now rushed in and blocked up every avenue 
and vacant space in the building, which, though large, could have 
been filled thrice with the crowd that had congregated on the out¬ 
side, and were now continually pouring into the court house yard 
from the different parts of the town, as the report spread that Teufel’s 
trial was taken up. The throng had mustered also in great strength 
6 



4 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


along both sides of the pavement leading from the prison to the 
court house, to gratify their curiosity by a sight of Teufel. 

The prisoner having been in irons, it occupied over half an hour 
to loosen him, during which time nothing was before the court. The 
judges, the counsel, other members of the bar and the densely 
packed crowd waited with a suspense almost painful, for the appear¬ 
ance of the man who was to be arraigned upon the highest charge 
that can be preferred against man. At length, he made his appear¬ 
ance under escort of sheriff Corcoran and ex-sheriff Wilkinson. As 
soon as he reached the dock, the district attorney arose and read to 
him the following bill of indictment : 

In the Court of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery , 
holden in and for the County of Bucks. 

February Sessions, 1867. 

Bucks County, ss. 

The Grand Inquest of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, inquir¬ 
ing in and for the County of Bucks, upon their solemn oaths and 
affirmations, respectively do present:—That Albert Teufel, late of 
the said county of Bucks, yeoman, on the twenty-fourth day of No¬ 
vember, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and 
sixty-six, at the county aforesaid, and within the jurisdiction of this 
court, with force and arms in and upon the body of one James 
Wiley, in the peace of God and the said Commonwealth then and 
there being, feloniously, wilfully, and of his malice aforethought, did 
make an assault and him the said James Wiley did then and there, 
feloniously, wilfully, and of his malice aforethought, kill and murder, 
contrary to the form of the act of the General Assembly in such case 
made and provided, and against the peace and dignity of the Com¬ 
monwealth of Pennsylvania. 

Bobt. L. Cope, District Attorney. 

To this bill the prisoner pleaded “ not guilty,” and put himself 
upon God and his country for trial. Mr. Carver then arose and 
said :— 

“ We are entirely unprepared to go to trial now; for our principal 
and most material witnesses are absent.” 

The prisoner made affidavit to the following facts:— 

“ That he is not at all prepared for trial at this term for the charge 
against him ; because he has not been able to procure witnesses 
which are of the greatest importance to him, and without whose 
evidence he can not safely go to trial. 

“ The names of the witnesses -which are of vital importance to him 
are Oscar Burnell and John Cassiday. That on the 10th of January 
last, he took out a subpoena, and placed it in the hands of John K. 
Tomlinson, high constable of the borough of Doylestown, directing 
him to subpoena among others the said Oscar Burnell and John 
Cassiday; but that the said John K. Tomlinson states that he has 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


5 


not been able to find the two witnesses above named; that he called 
at the residence, or where he had been informed they resided, and 
was told that they were out or had gone away; that after waiting for 
some time he left a copy of the subpoena for one of them and left. 
The said defendant further deposes and says, that he has had a per¬ 
son engaged in Philadelphia to find the said witnesses, but that he 
has not as yet been successful.” 

The Commonwealth pressed the trial on the ground that as most 
of the witnesses were employees on the canal, and that if the trial 
should be put off until April term, many of them might be hundreds 
of miles away, and the Commonwealth would suffer much in case of 
a postponement. 

The court granted a temporary continuance until the next day, for 
the purpose of giving the prisoner an opportunity to produce some 
evidence of the existence of the witnesses named in his affidavit. 
An officer was despatched to the city, with instructions from the 
prisoner and his counsel, to bring before the court Mr. Robinson, of 
Robinson’s hotel, Sansom street, Philadelphia, who knew both the 
said witnesses, since they often stopped at his hotel. 

The next day, at the arrival of the train from Philadelphia, the 
trial was called up again, and Mr. Robinson was sworn. 

Pie said that he knew of no such persons as Oscar Burnell and 
John Cassiday; that he did not recollect having seeu the prisoner 
at his house at any time; that the letter which he held in his hand, 
directed to Oscar Burnell, had been at his place for several weeks 
and had not been called for. 

Christian Teufel, the father of the prisoner, was sworn and stated 
that he delivered the letter which Mr. Robinson had, to him, some 
time ago, and that he was with Mr. Tomlinson to the city, and saw a 
man down at the wharf who knew Oscar Burnell; but when Tomlin¬ 
son was called, he qualified that Christian Teufel told him at the 
depot that he had seen this man and upon offering to go with him 
and take him along to Doylestown, Teufel refused to give him any 
further information about the man, urging as an excuse, that it was 
too late. 

The court, after hearing this unsatisfactory evidence, consulted for 
a moment, then announced that they were not satisfied that any such 
individuals as Oscar Burnell and John Cassiday were in being, and 
that it appeared from the testimony of the landlord and the officer, 
that it was not likely that they would or could be produced at the 
next sessions. That, although, they felt inclined to indulge the 
prisoner as much as was consistent with due administration of justice, 
and give him a fair trial, yet, the Commonwealth had rights too, which 
could not be, altogether, overlooked They had already granted the 
prisoner one continuance upon a similar application; that he had 
had time since the early part of December to find his witnesses, who 
with due diligence could have been found if they were to be found 


6 


TRIAL OP ALBERT TEUFEL. 


at all. The court discharged the application and directed the trial 
to be proceeded with, and the jury to be called. 

The following questions were asked of each juror, on oath : 

1. Have you formed or expressed any opinion as to the guilt or 

innocence of the prisoner at the bar ? 

2. Have you any such conscientious scruples on the subject of 

capital punishment as to prevent you from rendering a verdict 
against the prisoner of guilty of murder of the first degree, if 
the evidence should warrant such verdict ? 

The following jurors were selected and sworn, all but one being 
taken from the regular panel: 


1. Mathias Miller, 

2. Henry Harwick, 

3. Isaac R. Strawn, 

4. Philip Fretz, 

5. Charles E. Douglass, 

6. Joseph A. Vanhorn, 


7. Franklin B. Rhoads, 

8. Edward Ivins, 

9. William H. Stuckert, 

10. Gilbert Green, 

11. William P. Crozier, 

12. Abraham R. Kephart. 


The prisoner challenged seventeen jurors peremptorily, the Com¬ 
monwealth two. 

At 3 o’clock the jury was empanneled, when the court adjourned 
for one hour. 

When the court called again and the jurors had all answered to 
their names, the district attorney opened the case on the part of the 
Commonwealth. 


MR. COPE’S OPENING. 


May it please the Court, and you, Gentlemen of the Jury :— 
You have been selected with great caution and much jealousy, to try 
and true deliverance make of Albert Teufel, the prisoner in the dock, 
whom you have now in chargp. You enter upon the discharge of 
your duties with your minds unbiassed. And, although the offence 
with which this prisoner is charged, has attracted the public mind 
to an unusual degree; rumor has spread, and the tale is told with 
different shades of color, and with many additions, you will banish 
from your minds any impression that may have been made by these 
outside reports, and only take into your deliberations the sworn evi¬ 
dence which will be detailed to you by the witnesses from the stand. 
I will now read to you the bill of indictment which the grand jury 
has found true, charging Albert Teufel with the murder of James 
Wiley. (Mr. Cope then read the bill which is found on a previous 
page.) In this bill you perceive that the charge is in the lan¬ 
guage of the common law definition of murder, which is, “ where 
a person of sound mind and discretion unlawfully kills any reasonable 
creature in being and in the peace of the Commonwealth, with malice, 
prepense or aforethought, either express or implied.” 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFFL. 


7 


The chief characteristics, the grand criterion by which murder is 
distinguished from other degrees of homicide, is malice , which has 
a peculiar signification in law. Malice in its common acceptation 
signifies a desire of revenge, or a settled anger against a particular 
person; but this is not its legal sense. In its legal sense it signifies 
this and much more. It means any wicked or mischievous intention 
of mind; and therefore, although the crime of murder is stated in 
the bill of indictment to have been committed with malice afore¬ 
thought, it is not necessary in support of this bill, to show that the 
prisoner had any enmity to the deceased, nor will proof of absense 
of ill-will furnish the accused with any defence, when we prove that 
the act of killing was intentional and done without any justifiable 
cause. 

Murder, at common law, has been divided into two degrees by act 
of assembly, and under this bill you can find the prisoner guilty of 
either degree, or of voluntary manslaughter, should you find him 
guilty at all. Murder of the first degree is “ all murder which shall 
be perpetrated by means of poison, or by lying in wait, or by any 
other kind of wilful, deliberate and premeditated killing, or which 
shall be committed, in the perpetration of, or attempt to perpetrate, 
any arson, rape, robbery or burglary,” and all other kinds of murder 
shall be deemed murder in the second degree; which may be defined 
to be : the unlawful killing of another with malice, but not with a 
wilful, deliberate and premeditated design to take life. 

Voluntary manslaughter is another degree of homicide, of which 
you may convict under this bill. This is defined to be “ the unlaw¬ 
ful and felonious killing of another, without malice, upon sudden 
heat or passion/' 

There are various other degrees of homicide, but I will not burden 
your minds at this time by an exposition of them. If they arise, at 
all, in this case, it is time enough to consider them then. You will 
please bear in mind through the progress of this trial, that the in¬ 
tention of the prisoner is to be your great guide; and this may be 
inferred from his acts. The law does not punish a man for killing 
another, but for the intention with, and the circumstances under, 
which he kills him. In some cases the law even directs the killing 
of another. A man may kill another by accident, or in self-defence. 
But if the killing be done without any provocation or just cause, and 
with intent to take life, it is murder in the first degree. 

Having now given you a brief explanation of the law which 
governs this case, I will proceed to give you an outline of the evi¬ 
dence which we shall produce to support this bill: 

On Sunday morning, the 25th day of November last, the vicinity 
of Narrowsville was greatly shocked at the discovery, within its 
limits, of the corpse of a man who "was murdered in a most cruel 
and cold-blooded manner. 

The canal boat “ Ohio" was found lying below the Narrows’ lock 
without an apparent owner. It was boarded and the cabin door 


8 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


opened, when the bloody corpse of its captain revealed the dreadful 
tragedy that had been committed on that boat. The alarm was 
given, and soon a crowd had gathered around the boat that con¬ 
tained the body of the murdered man. An inquest was held, and 
the corpse was identified as being that of James Wiley. He was 
found lying on bis back ; one leg drawn up, pocket books and money 
purses lying about him, emptied of their contents ; his hat under his 
head ; his mouth stuffed full of rags; a strand of a rope around his 
neck; his brains protruding from the left and back part of his head; 
and considerable blood was found on the floor of the cabin. 

Suspicion arose that the prisoner had a hand in this fiendish deed ; 
he was accordingly arrested and lodged in our jail. On Thursday 
following I had the body disinterred, and directed Dr. Swartzlander, 
of this place, to make a post mortem examination. Upon opening 
the coffin, he found the mouth of the deceased wide open and his 
tongue retracted. Removing the scalp, he found a large fracture of 
the skull on the left side of the head, in the region of the left parie¬ 
tal and temple bones; a small hole in the the top of the skull, a little 
to the left of the top suture; he also found considerable effusion of 
blood on the right side of the head. Upon taking off the skull and 
tracing the course of the wound, in the top part of the head, through 
the brain, he found several pieces of lead, resembling those of a 
bullet. The doctor will tell you that the fracture on the side of the 
skull must have been produced by a blunt instrument, a hammer or 
a hatchet, and that the hole in the top of the head, by a shot from a 
pistol, or from some other fire-arm. 

Mr. Cope then proceeded to give in detail the facts which the Com¬ 
monwealth relied upon for conviction, every word of which was 
substantiated by proof, so that, to avoid repetition, the evidence of the 
witnesses alone, is here given. 

MR. WYKER, SWORN. 

By Mr. Cope. —I live at Narrowsville. On Sunday, Nov. 25th, I 
found the “ Ohio” in the canal below the lock, tied to bridge toward the 
tow-path. I came from the house at 8 o'clock, aud went on the boat to 
wake up the boatmen, thinking they were asleep in the cabin. I found 
the slide fast. I opened it,—found a dead man lying on his back—on 
the cabin floor, one leg drawn up—the body was lying near the steps. 
I did not know the corpse. 

Cross-examined by Mr. Carver .—I saw no pocket-book ; his hat was 
under his head; saw nothing around his neck; there was no other person 
there when I found him; I gave the alarm, then some came,—then I 
walked towards the bow of the boat; then got on the bridge; then stood 
around I don't know how long, then I went to the house. I gave the 
alarm when I found the man — I called the lock-tender immediately. 
I saw no one about at 8 o'clock but the lock-tender—I did not go 


f 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


9 


down into the cabin. Samuel Gilmer first went into the cabin, this 
was near noon—I did not go into the cabin with him, Gilmer went in 
alone—the boat was about 40 yards from our house. I went back to 
the boat soon. I don’t know who went on next—the lock-tender came 
when I gave the alarm. The slide was open when he came. I don’t 
know whether he went down ; his name is Michael Leichleter. I don’t 
know how long he stayed on the boat. Some of the boatmen came 
and got on the boat. Don’t know who they were, nor how many—I 
was still on the bridge—don’t know whether they went down into the 
cabin, the slide was wide enough open to go down. I looked at 
the body—not very closely—I thought it was a dead man. I next 
saw him near noon—was still lying in cabin—I did not go down ; he 
was lying where I first saw him, unmoved; he had his coat on —face 
uncovered; can’t say if he had a vest on ; didn’t see anything around 
his neck, don’t know whether he had a cravat on ; his head lay straight 
out on the floor—think his eyes were open ; his mouth was open as 
wide as it could be; I saw some blood on the floor; saw some pieces 
of dishes on the floor, broken ; not many. I suppose it was a tea-cup. 
I saw a stool setting there on its legs. I saw nothing else there ; saw 
no pocket-book—saw no rope around his neck; I could not have seen 
it if it had been there, because the position in which he lay would not 
have shown it He had a beard, I think; had a full view of the 
body. The room looked as if there had been a fight, from the dishes 
being broke; body was taken out through the door. I saw him about 
twenty minutes after he was taken out; he looked then as he did when 
I first saw him. I saw them take the rope from his neck. It was a 
piece of tow-line. His mouth was still wide open. I did not see it 
examined. His face was washed OS’. The rope was not very long. I 
saw a jug on the deck. The cabin was dark—can’t say whether the 
door opening out into the boat was open or not when I looked down. 
I saw a piece of blouse stick out of his mouth, when I first looked 
down. 


Re-examined by Mr. Rons .—His coat was a long, blue soldier 
coat—couldn’t see any of his underclothing—not his blouse. The 
coat was not thrown over his face. The piece of blouse in his mouth 
was dark blue. 


SAMUEL KILLMER, AFFIRMED. 

By Mr. Ross .—I live in Nockamixon township, Bucks county, two 
miles from Narrowsville. I went to the boat u Ohio” at about nine 
o’clock ; the boat was lying along the berme side of the canal. When 
I came down I saw a dead body, said to have been James Wiley. 
Looked as if there was blood on his neck. The body was in the cabin, 
lying on his back, hat under his head; his right leg was drawn up, 
so—on his breast lay a pocket-book—a rope was around his neck— 
blouse stuffed in his mouth. Levi Trauger took it out. It consisted 


10 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


of two pieces of different color. I think Trauger took the rope off his 
neck, too. I am not positive whether Wiley had a beard. Saw a 
wound in the right side of the head, near the top. The rope was tied 
tight as could be. 

Cross examined by Mr. Carver. —I found several persons on the 
boat when I came there. The cabin slide was open 3 no one was in 
the cabin when I got there. I went down myself. 

The steps stood in their usual place 3 the stove is right by the side 
of the steps on the right as you go down. The head was lying to the 
left forward corner where the stove was, the stool was on the left as 
you go down. The body was tying out at full length 3 the right leg 
drawn up. Wiley had gloves on his hands. I think they were buck¬ 
skin. His hands lay on his body 3 don’t recollect whether his hands 
were open or not. He might have had something in his hands 3 I 
don’t know. 


LEYI TRAUGER, SWORN. 

By Mr. Ross. —-I keep the hotel at Narrowsville, about a mile from 
where the boat was found. I reached the “ Ohio” about ten o’clock, 
A. M. I saw Wiley tying in the cabin on his back. His pockets were 
turned inside out. I took the rags out of his mouth, they were in 
tight. I t^ok the rope from his neck, (rope shown) that looks just like 
the rope 3 (blouse shown) that looks like the piece I took out of his 
mouth. 

Cross-examined by Mr. Watson. —They lock boats through after 
ten o’clock, sometimes, but it is against the rule. 

JAMES R. BOILEAU, ESQ., SWORN. 

By Mr. Ross. —I acted as coroner over the body of Wiley. The 
inquest was held on Sunday morning the, 25th of November, 1866. 
The body was carried out of the boat, placed in a spring wagon after 
the inquest. I did not see the boat on her down trip. (This witness 
corroborates the others in other respects.) 

Cross-examined by Mr. Carver. — *1 arrived at the boat between 
nine and ten o’clock in the morning. Quite a number of men were 
there. I found an empty cartridge on deck 3 it was about three- 
quarters of an inch in length. I don’t know whether there is or is not 
another Ohio on the Delaware. 

ROBERT L. HUTCHINSON, AFFIRMED. 

By Mr. Ross. —I reside in Trenton, N. J. 3 am treasurer of the 
East Trenton Porcelain Company. I knew James Wiley. I paid 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


11 


him money on the 23d of November, for freight. I have his receipt 
for $101.60 Grave him $10 a day or two before, ware worth $3.09. 
I gave him a check for $88.51, payable to James Wiley or bearer, on 
the Mechanics’ National Bank of Trenton. The check is dated the 
same day as the receipt. Wiley was in company with a boy. I can’t 
say that the prisoner was with him on the deck. The check was paid. 

ANTHONY RICK, SWORN. 

By Mr. Boss. —I was at the Narrows on Sunday, the 25th day of 
November, 1866, saw the dead body of Wiley on the boat “ Ohio." I 
knew the man. I heard about the murder as my boat was going into 
the lock. I left my boat in the lock aud went to Wiley’s boat. It 
was about eight o’clock when I got on the boat. I soon went home 
after my brother, Harman Rick, who was driver for Wiley. I thought 
he might perhaps be killed, too. I found him at home. He is about 
fifteen years old. 

DR. JOHN S. JOHNSON, SWORN. 

By Mr. Ross. —I am a physician ; was called to make a pos mortem 
examination of the body of Wiley. It was on Sunday about 
noon, in November. I was summoned by the inquest, held by esquire 
Boileau. I found a wound in the head on the left side just above the 
occipital bone. The opening was probably a quarter of an inch in 
size. The brain was ruptured and protruding. A piece of skull was 
driven into the brain. I removed it with my finger; the piece was 
perhaps one-fourth by one-half of an inch in dimensions. My opinion 
was that the wound was made by a gunshot. I don’t know that I 
still retain that opinion. A man might survive any length of time 
after receiving such a wound. The man died, in my judgment, from 
the wound in the brain. 

Cross-examined by Mr. Carver. —I do not think a gunshot would 
have made so large a wound. 

CONRAD SCHEETZ, SWORN. 

By Mr. Cope. — I live in Nockamixon. IJ was acquainted with 
Wiley. He was buried in the graveyard of the Nockamixon church. 
I saw him buried. I was called on by the district attorney to assist 
in exhuming the body. I saw the body before it was buried. I took Dr. 
Swartzlander and Mr. Cope to his grave and helped to dig the body out. 
Wiley’s corpse was in the coffin. I did not see the body at the boat. 

By Mr. Ross. —I know Mrs. Wiley. She was at the funeral, her 
father and her brothers were there. The body dug up was the same I 
saw in the church before it was buried. 


12 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


Cross-examined by Mr. Watson. —I didn’t know Wiley while 
alive. 

MRS. MARY WILEY, SWORN. 

By Mr. Ross. —I am the widow of James Wiley. He was buried 
on Wednesday, at the Nockamixon church. On the Wednesday after 
the body was found. 

DR. FRANK SWARTZLANDER, SWORN. 

By Mr. Cope. —I reside in Doylestown Borough. I am a practicing 
physician. I have beeu here nearly a year, was three years surgeon in 
the army. On the 29th of November, 1806,1 went with the district 
attorney and Mr. Conrad Scheetz to the grave said to have been that of 
James Wiley. The corpse was disinterred and taken into a small 
building near the church; it was taken out of the coffin and placed up¬ 
on a board,—the breast was examined, found it to contain spots indi¬ 
cative of injury. I did not discover any marks of violence upon the 
neck; the eyes were partially open, and the pupils dilated ; there was a 
slight abrasion on the nose. The mouth was open containing no blood 
or foreign substance; the tongue was retracted, upper edge injected 
with blood, underneath the mucous membrane. The features of the 
body were not indicative of having died in great struggle, the hair on 
the scalp was not singed ; it was not clotted with blood at the lateral 
posterior part of the head. The scalp contained two openings ; one at 
the top, the other at the side. I took the scalp off by carrying the in¬ 
cision around the back part of the head across the occipital protuber¬ 
ance as far as the temple, then as far as the ridge over the eye. The 
right side of the temple was injected with blood; the pericranium 
showed no injestion of blood. I then removed the skull-cap, by sawing 
through so as to contain the injured portions; the skull-cap had two 
openings. The opening at the top was through the left parietal bone 
near the top suture ; it was large enough to admit the end of my little 
finger. The lateral posterior opening was through the lateral and 
temple bones; it being about one and a quarter of an inch in diameter ; 
was of an irregular shape; two large pieces of bone adhering; found 
several smaller pieces of bone in the brain ; I examined the top wound ; 
there was no escape of cerebral substance. The membrane of the 
lateral posterior wound was torn and lacerated considerably; there was 
blood effused beneath the covering of the brain ; this was venous blood. 
I then removed the braiu from the base of the skull; there was con¬ 
siderable effusion underneath the membranes of the brain, extending 
around the medulla oblongatta and anterior lobes of the cerebellam. 
I washed off the blood, and found an opening through the middle lobe 
of the brain; there was an indentation in the base of the skull where 
the missile had struck. I placed the brain on a board when this piece 
of a bullet dropped out; introduced my finger into the base of the brain 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


18 


where I found this smaller fragment and extracted it. The bullet took 
a direct course downward and slightly backward direction. 

The result of the gunshot wound was not, in this case, immediate 
death. There was much effusion of arterial blood, showing the heart’s 
action after the infliction of the wound. The side wound would have 
caused death in most cases, though not instant death, perhaps ; the two 
wounds would have necessarily caused death, as the shock upon the 
nervous system was so great that it was impossible for the deceased to 
survive it. I think the pistol shot wound was inflicted first; for there 
was too much arterial blood there for gravitation to produce, there 
must have been some action of the heart afterwards; but if the side 
wound had been inflicted first, the other pistol shot wound in additiou 
would have stopped the action of the heart immediately. The side 
wound must have beeri caused by a blunt instrument; it would require 
a s severe blow to break the skull at that place. The bruise on the 
right side, was inflicted either a short time before, or a short time after 
death. I am satisfied the pistol shot took place before the compound 
fracture. The shot must have been from above. 

Gross examined by Mr. Carver .—The deceased must have faced 
his antagonist. The wound on the left side was sufficient to cause 
death; neither would have caused cessation of respiration, but both 
would. 

By Mr. Watson .—The dilation of the eyes, is not always caused by 
sudden blows. If there had been a scuffle, the exertion would have 
had an influence on the dilation of the eye. Dilation is indicative 
of apoplectic effusion. I examined the neck, did not notice any 
marks or discoloration. If the rope had been tight enough to lacerate 
the veins under the skin, there would have been marks after death. 

Re-examined by Mr. Ross .—If the wounds had been given nearly 
or quite together, the shock would have been sufficient to have pro¬ 
duced instant death. The tongue could have been doubled up by no 
other means than by the mouth being filled. The fragments of the 
bhllet weighed 105 grains. 

HARMAN RICK, SWORN. 

By Mr. Cope .—I was employed on the 23d of Nov. upon the canal 
boat u Ohio/' with captain Wiley; going from Mauch Chunk, loaded 
with coal, unloaded at Trenton and sometimes at New Brunswick. 
We unloaded the last time at Trenton, on a Friday noon. Albert 
Teufel came on the boat there, on Wednesday the first time, went 
away on Thursday morning, and came back on Friday noon, he re¬ 
mained three hours I suppose before we left; Teufel and we left in 
the boat; we left there about three o’clock, we three together 
on the boat; Teufel was in the cabin, we went as far as Taylorsville 


14 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


and stopped there all night. Al. wanted Wiley to go over the bridge 
with him on the Pennsylvania side, but he did not go with him ; he 
said he did not feel very good. Teufel did not go. We staid there 
all night, in the morning went up to Lambertville, there we got our 
breakfast, and then went over the river; went as far as the four mile 
level on the Delaware canal, and there Wiley got some liquor—do 
not know the name of the place; he gave me a drink of it before he 
got on the boat, in a bottle holding about two quarts. He took it on 
the boat; then noihing took place till we got to the six mile level 
above Holahan's. I heard some noise on the boat. I was a kind of 
sleeping, and it seemed to me like chopping wood on the bottom of 
the boat. This was in the evening—shortly after Albert called me 
back ; he whistled to me in the first place; and afterward called me 
by name ; then I came back and he told me to come on the boat. Be¬ 
fore he told me to come on the boat he told me he had killed him. I 
did not know what, and he did not tell me. He told me then to get 
on the boat; and he ran the boat so as I could get on. I got on then, 
and when I looked down in the cabin saw Wiley lying there drawing 
his breath. I asked him then what he had done it for? He catched 
hold of me, and told me not to cry and not to make no noise. Al. 
went down in the cabin. I told him I could not look at it no more ; 
and he told me to pull the top slide over the cabin door, then he was 
down about five minutes I suppose; and then he handed me up the 
hatchet and told me to throw it into the canal. Then he came up and 
told me to go out and drive the mules. I went out and drove up to 
Narrow’s lock; then T unharnessed the mules, and handed them to 
him and he carried them back in the hind box of the boat. He asked 
me if I did not want some feed for the mules, or some clothes to take 
home. I told him I would not go back to the boat any more; did 
not want no clothes or feed for the mules. Then he got on one mule 
and I on the other, and we went home. On the road home he said 
there was some one after him, and he said if any one was to come, he 
would run up the hill. Then I asked him when he first shot whether 
Wiley fell down? and he said not—he stood there. He shot again, 
and then he fell down. So we went home, and I put the mules in the 
stable, and he went in the house. My sister asked him what he was 
doing there; if he did not know they were after him for stealing 
mules. He said he did not care a darn. Then he said he had laid 
one of them slumbering, and he would lay more if they would not 
leave him alone. Then his father asked him what he had done, and 
he said he had put Wiley asleep. Louisa, my sister, says we would 
all get in trouble. He says, No ! none of us would,—if they wanted 
the man, that he was the man who done it. He told me not to go to 
the boat till some one came after me. I was to tell that a man got on 
the boat at Smithtown, him and Wiley stood on the tow path together, 
and Wiley told me to run the boat and leave the man on—that I was 
to tell at Narrows’ lock, and was to take the mules home, and Wiley 
and his friend would be there in the morning. I should ask Wiley 


TRIAL OP ALBERT TEUFEL. 


15 


who this man was; and he then said a friend of his. His father then 
said this would not do. He cocked his pistol then, and said no one 
knew but us three, and if we were a mind to tell, we might tell. He 
asked us what road he should take, and which way he should go. We 
told him we did not know. Sister was trying to get him out, fear he 
might kill some one there. He said we should leave him a little 
rest—leave him have time. Then he wanted me to take him off aways 
yet with the mules. I did not want to do it. I did not go with 
him; and so he went olf alone. It was Sunday morning about three 
o’clock, when he left our house. 

Cross-examined by Mr. Carver .—From Trenton to Narrows’ lock, 
we stopped at Taylorsville, Lambertville and Smithtown. Narrows- 
ville is 9 or 10 miles from Smithtown. I heard but one sound. I 
was on the mule—it was night—I could hear the sound plainly,—I 
was sleepy. Al. whistled about a minute after I heard the noise. 
I suppose Al. steered at the time. While it was getting dark Wiley 
steered, after dark I don’t know who steered. Al. steered while 
Wiley got liquor. The last I saw Wiley alive was at the foot of the 
six mile level; he was then on the boat steering. 

I did not tell the truth at the inquest. After inquest I was arrest¬ 
ed on Sunday night and taken to the district attorney. Constable 
Piatt arrested me. Alfred Buck was along to the district attorney’s 
office. No one told me to tell this story ; it is what I saw and heard. 
I first told this to Mr. Buck at the district attorney’s office. I didn’t 
tell it in the first place because I was afraid he would come back and 
kill the whole of us. I told the district attorney after I told Mr. 
Buck. 

No one got on the boat with a black moustache—once I said there 
did. I said before the inquest that he got on above Smithtown lock, 
—that he was lying in bed all the way up,—that Wiley told me to 
take the mules home, and he and his friend would be home in the 
morning. I told this story under oath. I adhered to this story from 
Sunday until Monday morning. On Sunday night Buck and Piatt 
and others came and asked for Teufel. They asked me at the inquest 
whether Teufel did it, or if I knew him. 1 told them I knew him, 
but he wasn’t on the boat; nothing more was said about Teufel. At 
Doylestown I was taken into the back office of the district attorney; 
he asked me about it—I told him the same story; he told me he 
would have to lock me up until he found out some more about it. 
They did not lock me up. I asked Buck to go out with me to the 
front office, there I told how it happened, and then I went back to the 
district attorney and told him all about it. They let me go home,— 
they didn’t do anything with me. 

By Mr. Watson .—I told Al. on the boat he ought not to have done 
it. I forgot to tell this in my examination in chief. Teufel called 
me back hardly a minute after I heard the noise; he stayed in 


16 


TRIAL OE ALBERT TEUFEL. 


the cabin about quarter of an hour; I heard no noise down there. I 
could not see him, I was steering. I could have heard a noise if there 
had been one loud enough. Teufel handed the hatchet through the 
slide,—he said I should throw it into the canal. The light was out 
when he came up I got off the boat above the culvert—not far below 
this I heard the noise. He handed the hatchet out at about the cul* 
vert. It was dark, no moon when I heard this. 

Re examined by Mr. Cope .—The pistol was silver-plated, had one 
barrel and six chambers. I didn’t see him have it on that trip, on 
other trips I saw him have it. I saw it last when he went out of the 
house. 

By Mr. Ross .—I saw the hatchet since in Buck’s house; (hatchet 
shown) I believe this to be the hatchet. 

Re cross-examined by Mr. Watson .—I know the hatchet by being 
weak in the end of the handle near the eye, this is the only peculiarity 
about it. 

LOUISA RICK, SWORN. 

By Mr. Ross .—I live in Bucksville with my mother, five miles 
from Narrows’ lock. I saw Teufel last on Sunday night, November 
25th, at 3 o’clock in the morning of Sunday. He came with m 3 r 
brother, Harman Kick. Brought two mules home. I was up in 
bed. I first heard my brother call for the key to unlock the stable. 
I came down, unlocked the door, and gave the key to him. Then 
Albert stepped inside the door. I asked what he came for, I said 
“ don’t you know they are in search of you; they were here on Fri¬ 
day night ” He said “ I don’t care a darn,-—they’ll have to let me 
alone or else I’ll show them something.” His father was there, was 
lying on the floor. Both he and I asked Albert what was the mat¬ 
ter—he said u I laid one slumbering and if they don’t let me alone 
I’ll lay more.” He said “ I laid Wiley a slumbering and he’ll never 
awake again.” Then brother came in and I asked him what was 
the matter, “ did he (Albert) do anything to Wiley ?” He said, 
u yes, he killed Wiley.” I asked Albert how he came to do it; he 
said “ I had to do it, he had a cup of coffee in one hand and a knife 
in the other to stab me, and then I shot him.” I then said “ we’ll 
all get into trouble, how did you come to do it ?” He said, “ no, 
all you got to say, is that a man came on the boat at Smithtown 
level; when he came on the boat he went down to Harman’s bed in 
the cabin and remained there till they came to the place where they 
stopped, then Mr. Wiley sent Harman home with the two mules and 
said that he would come with his friend next morning.” I said, that 
wouldn’t do. Then he said, “ no one knows it except you three, if 
you want to tell, you may.” He cocked the pistol as he said this. I 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


17 


asked him what will Mrs. Wiley say. He said, “ Mrs Wiley gave 
me warning.” I asked him what she said; he said only that she 
gave him warning. He did not explain what she said. He then left 
the house. In the house he had his foot on the chair and tried to 
scrape the blood off his pants. He said, “ this blood won’t come off. 
This damn blood is not like others, you can’t get it off.” It was on 
the side of his pants. They were brown leather color. He was in 
the house an hour. When he first came in he cursed and spoke 
roughly; he said when he left he would try and get away so that they 
couldn’t get him; he said if he should meet any one, he would 
have to shoot them; he wanted my brother to take him away with 
the mules apiece ; he left on foot. He wanted to know which way 
he should take ; he said he didn’t like to go past Mrs. Wiley’s house, 
and the road was too rough to go over the hill. He thought he would 
go to Qukertown and taxe the cars next day. (His pants were shown 
her.) Those are his pants he wore that night. 

Cross-examined by Mr. Watson .—It was between 2 and 3 when 
Al. came to our house. I saw him trying to scratch blood of his 
pants I did not hear what he was saying to his father. I talked to 
my brother. I said to Al. “ Mrs. Wiley is a poor woman, what 
will she say ?” He replied, u Mrs. Wiley is all right, because she 
gave me warning.” 


AARON STOVER, AFFIRMED. 

By Mr. Cope .—I reside near Quakertown station. I saw prisoner 
at Hartman’s hotel, on Sunday morning about 6 o’clock. He was 
sitting beside the stove when I came down stairs. He asked me 
whether he could have breskfast. I told him he could. Then he 
washed,—took breakfast, paid me for it and five cents for a cigar. 
He paid me in currency, it was all the money I saw him have. I 
went to breakfast, when I came back he was gone. He asked me 
when the cars came down. I told him, not till afternoon. I am 
certain the prisoner is the same man. The down train on Sunday 
leaves at 5.10 p. M. 


KATE HUNTER, CALLED. 

Mr. Watson objected to her being sworn, on the ground that she 
was the wife of the prisoner. 

Sworn on vote dire—By Mr. Watson .— I am not the wife of the 
prisoner. I lived with him as his wife. We were never married. 

Sworn in Chief. — By Mr. Ross .—I lived in 3d street, Phila¬ 
delphia, near Buttonwood, on the 26th of November, 1866. I know 
Albert Teufel, the prisoner, he was arrested in my house on Tuesday 
7 


18 


TRIAL OP ALBERT TEUFEL. 


mornkg He left Monday, a week before liis arrest, came home on 
Wednesday or Thursday, and went away again on Friday morning 
I saw him next Sunday evening at my house between 7 and 8 o’clock, 
he remained until he has arrested on Tuesday. During this tiaae I 
was living with him as his wife. We had rented a room on the third 
floor. I don’t know whether he had any money when he came back; 
he was indebted for board. He was about the city, went out and 
came in at different times. He was in the fourth story in a room un¬ 
occupied, when he was arrested. Don’t know what he was doing 
there. After he was arrested he gave me a pistol. (Pistol shown.) 
I think that is the pistol. I gave it to that policeman. 

By Mr. Cope .—The prisoner did not say where he had been 
when he came back on Sunday night; he said he had been up coun¬ 
try at his aunts. I had no money of his in my possession after he 
was arrested. 

CHARLES WEIK, SWORN. 

By Mr. Ross .—I went with Fred. Hildebrant, and Yal. Schwei- 
bentz, to a house in 3d street, below Buttonwood; in search for Albert 
Teufel. We went in and inquired for him. He did not come down. 
We sent a little girl up stairs. A lady came down and wanted to 
know who wanted to see Mr. Teufel. I went to a Station House in 
3d street. Sergeant Murray took me to the alderman to get out a 
warrant for the arrest of Teufel, for stealing my mule. I have known 
Teufel since 1850. He is about 22 or 23 years old. 

Cross-examined by Mr. Carver .—My mule had been stolen some 
time before. I didn’t see anybody steal him. I didn’t find him in 
Teufel’s possession. 

SERGEANT JOHN T. MURRAY, SWORN. 

By Mr. Ross .—On Tuesday, the 27th of November, 1866, about 
1 p. M. Mr Weik came to the Station House, in 3d street, below 
G-reen, and said he wanted a man arrested for stealing his mule. I 
went with him to the alderman’s office, to get a warrant. I took the 
warrant and proceeded to No. 488, 3d street, the house of Mrs. Pabst. 
I met Mrs. Teufel on the steps who at first prevented me from go¬ 
ing up stairs. She said nobody should enter her room. I sent for 
more officers. At the arrival of two other policemen we went up 
stairs to Mrs. Teufel’s room,—searched each room. Lieutenant 
Franks guarded the entry leading to the yard. We went up to the 
attic, turned to the left where we confronted the prisoner, who said, 
“ I am the man you’re looking for,” in a defiant, bold attitude; he 
said, “ I’ll not go with these men,” with an oath, meaning Weik and 
two other Germans; “I’ll not go with the damned dutch, they can’t 
take me.” He asked permission to go into his room to get his coat; 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


19 


we took him in, when I saw something pass between him and his 
lady. He seemed to have a bitter feeling against the Germans. Com¬ 
ing down stairs, he made a jump of five steps, after them, pulling us 
down after him. A scuffle ensued, and we had great trouble to keep 
him from doing them bodily injury. We took him to the Station 
House, where he was committed for a further hearing. I received 
.information from headquarters that there was a despatch there from 
the district attorney at JDoylestown, charging the prisoner with hav¬ 
ing committed a murder in Bucks county. I went and read the 
depatch and immediately sent a telegram to Mr. Cope that I had a 
man answering the descriptions of the murderer. I received an 
answer to hold him until he could be identified. The next morning 
the lieutenant and I took the prisoner to Doylestown, where he was 
lodged in jail. 

JEROME DIETRICH, SWORN. 

By Mr. Ross .—I know Albert Teufel since 1848. I know also 
Harman Rick and James Wiley. I saw them on a boat on the 24th 
of November. Wiley was on the tow-path; Teufel on the stern. I 
was on the berme bank side,—ten or fifteen steps from Teufel. 1 had 
no talk with him. It was in the out let below New Hope. It was 
the boat “Ohio,”—they were going up. 

Cross-examined by Mr. Watson .—I was on the Pennsylvania side, 
right below the town lock I was boating. Both boats were in the 
out-let. I am sure it was Teufel. I knew him when a boy. 

Re-examined by Mr. Cope .—Teufel said nothing to me and I said 
nothing to him. He went right down into the cabin. 

ISAAC PURSELL, AFFIRMED. 

By Mr. Cope .—(Hatchet shown.) I know this hatchet. I found 
it a mile above Bridgeton, at a culvert. It lay in the bottom of the 
canal above Mrs. Holahan’s The hatchet was between the two 
bridges. I found it on the 15th of December. I took it home and 
kept it till Buck called for it. I made my private mark on the 
handle. 

Cross-examined by Mr. Carver .—I was on my way to Bridgeton 
on the ice. I saw the handle. It lay flat. It was one quarter of a 
mile above Holahan’s. 

LEWIS FRANKENFIELD, SWORN. 

By Mr. Ross .—I was coming up the Delaware canal in November, 
1866. I knew Wiley and his boat. Saw the boat leave at Lumberville. 


20 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


His boat was ahead of my boat, about 200 yards. I saw two men on 
the boat “ Ohio ” at Smithtown, at the lower lock. I saw but Wiley 
and the boy before we got to Smithtown. The other man was stand¬ 
ing in the cabin hole. 

Cross-examined by Mr. Carver .—I don’t know how the man was 
dressed that stood in the cabin hole. Wiley steered. I couldn’t tell 
who the man was. 

ALEXANDER NOWERY, SWORN. 

By Mr. Ross. —On the night of 24th of November, 1866, I was 
at Jim Farley’s stopping place. The boat “ Ohio ” passed up while 
I was there. I was in store, it .is close to canal on the tow-path 
side. I know James Wiley. I know Albert Teufel. I have known 
him two years. I have talked to him the same as boatmen do on the 
canal. I was walking up the tow-path and asked whether this was 
the boat u Ohio;” there was no answer. I asked again, and heard a 
voice—he asked me if I had heard that Teufel was arrested for steal¬ 
ing a mule. The boat passed on and I went into the store. I judged 
it to have been Teufel’s voice. 

By Mr. Cope .—I saw him before,—that same week at Morrisville. 
I was coming up the canal and met him. He asked me if the boat 
u Ohio ” was on the tow with me. I said I didn’t think she was ; 
then he passed on down and I came up. 

Cross-examined by Mr. Watson. —It was but 9 or 10 o’clock when 
I heard the voice. I can’t say*how near l was to the boat. Harman 
Kick drove the boat. I heard him call to the man on the boat to 
keep her from the tow-path. I don’t know who was steering the 
boat. 

SAMUEL KILLMER, RE-CALLED. 

By Mr. Ross —On Saturday night, 24th November, I was in my 
house between 7 and 10 o’clock ; I live in Mrs. Holahan’s tenant 
house. At about half-past ten I went out into the yard before going 
to bed,—stood about half a minute, then I heard the report of a fire¬ 
arm, in a north-west direction from our place. I heard nothing else, 
and went to bed. 

Cross-examined by Mr. Watson. —People often shoot muskrats in 
this neighborhood. I told my wife it couldn’t be late, for they were 
still shooting muskrats. I thought the sound was between the canal 
and river, in the field ; couldn’t tell exactly. 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


21 


JOHN SIIOCKENCY, SWORN. 

By Mr. Cope .—I am watchman on the canal. My beat is twelve 
miles,—from Narrows up to Rocky Falls and back. I recollect 
Saturday, November 24th, I was on beat that night,—on road home 
below the aqueduct I heard a noise—looked around, but saw no one 
there. I started to go down again and right across from me, there 
was either a horse or mule, one man on it,—went on down about 
twenty-five yards, I saw a horse or mule, and then went to Narrows’ 
lock. The men and horses were in the road leading to Kintnerville 
and Easton. I met them nearly one-half mile from Narrows’-lock. 

ALFRED BUCK, SWORN. 

By Mr. Ross .—I got this hatchet at Isaac Pursell’s, took it home 
and kept it at a concealed place until I handed it to district attor¬ 
ney Cope. 

The blouse, rags, rope and pocket books, were all identified by Mr. 
Buck, who said he gave them to Mr. Cope. 

Mr. Ross then asked the counsel whether they wanted Mr. Cope 
to be sworn, to identify these articles. They replied that they would 
take his word for it. 

MRS. MARY WILEY, RE CALLED. 

By Mr. Cope .—I live four miles from Bucksville. I came to the 
boat “ Ohio ” after my husband was found;—it was on the wagon 
when I got there. The night before I was at home. Uncle took me 
down where the corpse was. It was about ten o’clock when we got 
down there. I know Albert Teufel; I have seen him off and on. 
He was never oftener than three times at our house. He was not 
longer than an hour there the first time; he might have been there 
longer the second time. The third time he was there about an hour, 
and my husband was not at home. The last time he was there on 
Saturday evening, two weeks before the murder of my husband, when 
he told me my husband was doing so bad in the city—running to 
them “onary” houses. I told him I was going to tell him of it 
when he came home. Teufel said, if he did deny it before his face, 
he would as leave kill him as look at him. I told him that wouldn’t 
do. He made no answer. I saw Teufel next in jail during Decem¬ 
ber court. He was in his cell. Nothing was said by him to me. 

Cross-examined by Mr. Carver .—Teufel stayed from one hour to 
an hour and a half on the Friday evening. My husband came in 
two hours after; he (Wiley) remained until Saturday morning. On 
Saturday evening Teufel came again, then the conversation ensued as 
stated in chief. I told Teufel, if he did what he said he would, it 
wouldn’t do. 


22 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


The foregoing were the principal witnesses, examined on the part of 
the Commonwealth. There were several others, whose evidence had 
not much bearing on the case, and therefore their evidence is here 
omitted. 


Mr. Carver opened on the part of the prisoner. 

MR. CARVER’S OPENING. 

May it please the Court, Gentlemen of the Jury :—The Common¬ 
wealth having closed, it now becomes my duty to tell you what we 
expect to prove on the part of the prisoner. 

My speech will be short since we were not successful in obtaining 
our main witnesses. We will be under the necessity of calling upon 
the stand, the father of the prisoner. We had hoped that the Com¬ 
monwealth would save us this unpleasant duty, by calling him on 
their part. But they refused, and thus we are compelled to call 
him. We shall show by him the conversation which he had with his 
son at Rick’s house, after the murder. As his son came into the 
house on the 25th of November, they conversed together in German, 
as both the Ricks have testified. His father said to him, “ you are 
a good swimmer, why did you not jump over-board ?” Albert re¬ 
plied, that Wiley seized him by his privates and held him so tightly 
that the pain was very severe; that he held him as if in a vise, and 
threatened to dismember him; that his grip was so tight that he had 
to shoot him. 

Albert then asked his father for some money, as he had none to go 
home with, and his father quietly put some into his hands, when he 
left. We will also call some other witness to contradict one of the 
Commonwealth’s witnesses in regard to the clothes the prisoner wore 
at the time of his arrest. After having proved these facts, we shall 
close and submit the case to you. 

CHRISTIAN TEUFEL, SWORN. 

By Mr. Carver .—I am the father of the prisoner. I was at Rick’s 
house on Saturday evening, the 24th of November. I arrived there 
at seven o’clock. I took supper there. At ten o’clock I lay down on 
a bed on the floor. Slept perhaps three hours; then I heard some 
noise like the tramping of horses and heard somebody whistle. Louisa 
opened the window and asked who was down. I don’t know who 
answered. She came down and opened. Somebody came in. I 
thought it was Harman, and spoke to him. My son Albert answered 
and asked me what I was doing there. I told him I came up to sell 
my boat. Louisa and Albert then talked together in English, which I 
cannot well understand. I heard only that Wiley was killed and was 



TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


23 


lying on the boat. I said : “ Albert, I hope you have not done 

that; that would be dreadful.” He answered: u Father, I had to 
do it, I could not avoid it. He would have killed me if I had not 
defended myself. He had a knife in one hand with intent to stab me, 
and with the other he held a cup of hot coffee before my face.” I 
don’t remember what else was said. We then went to the door. I 
said: “could you not jump into the canal and escape?” Then he 
took my hand and showed me how Wiley had seized him by his 
testicles and threatened to cut them off, so that he would have nothing 
more to do with his wife. He said he threatened him in every way, 
but he still held tighter until he was compelled to shoot him. He 
afterwards asked me for some money to go to Philadelphia with, and 
I gave him some three or four dollars, He left Rick's house at about 
three o’clock. 

Cross-examination by Mr. Cope —I told this to nobody but to 
Albert’s lawyers. I told them first. I did not say to Anthony Rick 
that Albert expected us to take a false oath, and that we need not be 
so particular about the truth. Albert said that Wiley had seized him 
after he knocked the cup out of his hand. 

James R. Boileau was then called to prove that Harman Rick had 
told a different story under oath before the inquest, which story was 
in substance the same as that which Rick admitted he had told. 

Adolph Pabst was called to contradict one of the Commonwealth’s 
witnesses, who stated that Teufel had worn a black moustache and 
soldiers’ clothes. The counsel for the Commonwealth, in cross- 
examination, elicited from him an important fact, to wit: That 
Teufel had paid the witness’s mother ten dollars for board as soon as 
he came home on the Sunday night after the murder, and that he had 
taken a trip to Wilmington with his wife on Monday. 

On Saturday night, the 9th of February, both sides closed, and the 
court adjourned until Monday morning at nine o’clock. 

On Monday morning, long before court called, an immense crowd 
had assembled in front of the court house, and as soon as the doors 
were opened, they rushed in “ pell-mell” until the old court house 
was again densely packed with men anxious to hear the summing up. 
There were two speeches delivered on each side. 


SPEECH OF THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY. 

Mr. Cope started out by congratulating the jury upon the approach 
of the close of this long, tedious and important trial. Happily, such 
trials are few in this county. It wus his solemn duty to present the 



24 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL 


whole evidence to the jury in a connected form, and apply it to the 
law that ruled the case. He then entered into a discussion of the law, 
and read from several reported cases. His remarks upon the facts 
were divided under different heads, which may be given as follows : 

1. Was James Wiley killed, or, did he die a natural death ? 

2. If he was killed, did Albert Teufel, the prisoner, kill him ? 

3. If he did, had he any just cause or excuse ? 

4. The theory of the Commonwealth, of the conception of the mur¬ 
der and the manner of its execution. 

That Jame9 Wiley was killed there can be no doubt, for it is ad¬ 
mitted on all sides, and the evidence of Dr. Swartzlander conclusively 
proves that the wounds in the head of the deceased must have been in¬ 
flicted before death, and that they must necessarily have caused death. 
Besides, the rope around the neck, the rags crammed into the mouth, the 
position and condition of the body, all show that violence was used by 
a cruel, determined and persevering hand, to take the life of James 
Wiley. 

Who, then, was the man that committed this deed ? Was it the 
prisoner at the bar ? The whole evidence points with a thousand 
fingers to him and says “ thou art the man/’ Harman Rick, who was 
a witness almost to the very act of killing, says it was the prisoner. 
But, before I proceed to comment on Rick’s evidence, it is necessary 
that his remarkable conduct in this case should be explained. He told 
two contradictory stories, both under oath, one before the coroner's 
inquest, and a different one before this court and jury. He gave to 
you his reason for telling the first story, which he now says is an un¬ 
truth. The desperate man who committed this deed, and who put that 
story in the boy's mouth and commanded him to tell it, was still at 
large, and he was afraid of his life, if he should reveal the truth then; 
he was in duress; and he is not responsible before Grod or man for 
taking that false oath. For as soon as he was taken before the district 
attorney, and saw that active steps were being takers to bring the per¬ 
petrator of this foul deed to justice, he revealed the truth. Hoes any 
of you doubt the tauth of what he said before you ? Is there a man 
in this court house that has heard and seen the boy testify that will 
doubt for a moment the truth of his testimony ? I know there is 
none. What, then, was his evidence on this subject 'l He says he 
knows the prisoner; that he was the only man upon the boat besides 
Wiley and himself from Taylorsville to the Narrows’ lock; and that a 
short distance above Holahan's, the prisoner called him back and told 
him “I have killed him," and that when he got upon the boat he saw 
his captain in the agonies of death; that the prisoner directed the wit¬ 
ness to steer while he went down into the cabin again, and soon handed 
him out the hatchet and commanded it to be thrown overboard. This 
hatchet had been found at, or very near, the place where the boy said 
he threw it into the canal. This is a strong corroborative circumstance. 
Nor is this the only corroboration of the boy’s statements, but the 
whole evidence dovetails; the report of the pistol shot, heard by Mr. 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


25 


Killnaer, at the same time of the night as Rick testifies that the deed 
had been committed, and at the same place on the canal; the testi¬ 
mony of Nowery, Dietrich and Frankenfield all corroborate the boy’s 
statement that Albert Teufel was on board the u Ohio” between the 
23d and 25th of Nov. ; the admissions of the prisoner to Louisa Rick 
and to his father that he had put Wiley to slumber so that he would 
never awake again; the fact that he was seen early on Sunday morn¬ 
ing at Quakertown Station inquiring when the train was coming down; 
the testimony of his pretended wile, Kate Hunter, that the prisoner 
left Philadelphia on Mondav preceding the murder, came home on 
Thursday and left again on Friday morning; all corresponds and inter¬ 
weave beautifully with the statements of Rick. But why argue this 
point; the prisoner admits before this court and jury that he committed 
the deed; for he calls his father and proves by him that he killed 
James Wiley, but under circumstances that would mitigate the degree, 
or exculpate him altogether. Is the prisoner’s story to his father true, 
is it probable ? Being unexpectedly confronted by his father and 
called upon by him to give a reason for committing such a dreadful 
deed, his fruitful mind immediately invented a story to ease the con¬ 
science of his father. For, if there is still left in the breast of any 
human being any sense of right, ®f accountability, or of conscientious¬ 
ness, it will manifest itself when called upon by his parents to give an 
account of his transgressions. 

Would a man with the muscular developments (of the prisoner 
allow a man like Wiley to seize and hold him until he was com¬ 
pelled to shoot him ? No, he would with one blow of h's tremen¬ 
dous fists lay him senseless before him. And again, Wiley was as 
tall as the prisoner ; how then could he shoot him in the top of the 
head, in a scuffle of the kind described. But even if you believe the 
statement of the prisoner that he at first shot Wiley in a scuffle or in 
self-defence, does that help his case any. Harm m Rick says that when 
he came back upon the boat he still saw Wil!ey possessed of the breath 
of life. Then the prisoner was in no danger, and in no passion ; for he 
quietly called Harman Rick back and told him to steer the boat while 
he went down into the cabin and handed him out the hatchet, to throw 
it overboard. Why throw that hatchet overboard ? What had it 
been guilty of? The evidence of Dr. Swartzlander explains the part 
that hatchet performed in this transaction. The wound in the side of 
the head he says was inflicted with a blunt instrument, a hammer or 
a hatchet; and after the pistol shot wound in the top of the head. 
Take this and compare it with Rick’s testimony and what will be the 
result ? You must believe that the prisoner deliberately took that 
hatchet and struck it into the head of his now helpless, though still 
living victim, to complete his premeditated design of taking his life. 
If he did this then it matters not whether he at first shot Wiley and 
rendered him helpless, in a passion or even in self defense. 

Mr. Cope then proceeded to give his theory of the manner in which 
the murder was committed. He started with Teufel’s last visit to 


26 


TRIAL OR ALBERT TEUFEL. 


Mrs. Wiley, when he endeavored to instil into the mind of Mrs. Wiley 
a spirit of jealousy, and threatened to kill him should he deny the 
charges he made against him to his wife. Mrs. Wiley answered u that 
won’t do,” you must not kill him, that wouldn’t do. Place this 
expression along side of the prisoner’s made to Louisa Rick, that Mrs. 
Wiley was all right. And that she was all right, the fact that she 
went into the jail to see the prisoner during last court, seems to prove. 
In Philadelphia the prisoner supported a woman that must have been 
expensive to him. He knew that Wiley must have drawn his freight. 
To get Wiley’s money and at the same time destroy his life, on 
account of his wife, seems to have been the prisoner’s object. 

At Taylorsville he tried to decoy the deceased over the dark bridge, 
with the intent to murder him there. Rut not succeeding in this he 
patiently waited until they got to within four or five miles of the Nar¬ 
rows’ lock, where there was a fit place to execute his fiendish design. 
Wiley was below in the cabin, perhaps taking a bite and drinking a 
cup of coffee; the prisoner stood on the s tern deck steering the boat, 
he took his pistol and shot at his victim through the cabin door; he 
missed him ; Wiley was paralyzed from the unexpected attempt of a 
Brutus; u he just stood there,” and before he recovered the prisoner 
shot again and hit him ; it was necessary for one to steer the boat, he 
could not leave the rudder and go down and reap the fruits of his deed ; 
so he calls the boy back and takes him in his confidence, tells him he 
had “ killed him,” and orders the boy to steer the boat. He descended 
into the cabin ; his victim was not dead; he takes the hatchet and 
knocks his brains out; still life sticks to him; he cuts off a strip from 
his victim’s coat and crams it into his mouth to stop his breath, and 
ties a strand of a rope tightly around his neck; then rifles his pockets 
and gathers the fruit of his murderous act. Then the deed was done ; 
his object was accomplished. 

The speech occupied two hours in its delivery. It was one o’clock 
when he sat down. The court then adjourned until two. When 
court called Mr. Carver opened for the prisoner. 


SPEECH OF MR. CARVER. 

Mr. Carver, counsel for the defence, said, we are about to submit 
to your judgment, gentlemen of the jury, the guilt or innocence 
of the prisoner. Under peculiar circumstances they had been called 
to summon witnessss upon the stand whom they were reluctant to 
call. In order to justify their client, they were compelled to have 
the testimony of Teufel’s father, a sad necessity for the father and 
the counsel. He hoped that the stories and the newspaper reports 
might have no effect in determining their verdict, but that they would 
act in accordance with the evidence given. It was not denied that a 
murder had been committed. But it was well to consider under what 



TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


27 


circumstances the crime was perpetrated. If there was such a thing 
as a fracas upon the boat between Wiley and Teufel, the latter might 
have acted in self defence. If Wiley did approach Teufel with a 
knife, ready to dismember his body, the latter must have been com¬ 
pelled to save himself by some means, and if such was the case, they 
could not find the prisoner guilty in the first degree. Because Teufel 
kept in the cabin on going up the canal, was no indication that he 
had concocted and premeditated the crime. The defendant was con¬ 
scious that he was sought by the proper officers for stealing mules, 
and as a natural consequence he tried to keep himself from the public 
gaze. In all human possibility they were both intoxicated by the 
whiskey they had obtained at Leslie’s tavern. The evidence in fact, 
was clear that some scuffle had taken place in the cabin, and the pro¬ 
curing of this liquor must have produced it. There is every evidence 
to believe that under the influence of liquor their passions, which are 
very strong in the defendant, were excited, and that Wiley accused 
Teufel of going with his wife, and then grasping hold of him this 
accident took plaee. Men will sometimes act rashly and imprudently 
in the heat of passion. The defendant is of a quick and impetuous 
disposition, and this murder was no doubt committed under the im¬ 
pulse of the moment. If you believe the story of the defendant’s 
father, which is somewhat corroborated by Harman Rick and Louisa 
Rick, you can not convict the prisoner of murder in the first degree. 
Wiley was a powerful man, and it was necessary for the defendant to 
prevent him from severing a part of his body, to resort to the last and 
fatal means. The rifling of Wiley’s pockets, the putting of the blouse 
into his throat, and the rope around his neck, had nothing to do with 
the death of James Wiley. It is the duty of the jury to judge Iioav 
the death was effected. The prisoner made no exertions to flee from 
justice. He went home to his own native neighborhood, and went 
cnly to Philadelphia, when he might instead have gone a far distance. 


SPEECH OF MR. WATSON. 

Mr. Watson, counsel for defendant, said, never before had he been 
engaged in a trial of this kind. He volunteered his services in behalf 
of a man who was poor and without friends. It was no desire of his 
to display any extraordinary ability, but it was simply an act of jus¬ 
tice. He felt the awful responsibility resting upon him, and he hoped 
he would be pardoned if he did things which he ought not to have 
done, and if he had omitted duties which he ought to have attended 
to. Through the infinite wisdom and goodness of a kind Providence, 
he would, however, endeavor to do his best, and he trusted that his 
action and that of the jury might be judged aright by Him above. 
It would be folly to say that the defendant did not commit the mur¬ 
der of James Wiley, but it was their duty to prove that the murder 



28 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 


only ranked in the second degree. The story of the boy might be 
true, but he had once perjured himself, and he might just as well 
have sworn to a lie when he was called upon the witness stand in this 
court, as he did before the inquest. His excuse for telling a false¬ 
hood then is that he was afraid to tell the truth, because if Teufel 
was not arrested he would inflict personal harm upon him. He is 
still, it seems, alarmed that the prisoner will get off, yet he now gives 
a different account. It was the demon whiskey that aroused the 
passions of Wiley and Teufel, and finally resulted in the death of the 
former. It was unjust for the Commonwealth to cast reflection upon 
the widow of Wiley, who was stricken down with grief and sorrow. 
Teufel said at Rick’s house, in the presence of all in the room, that 
Mrs. Wiley had given him warning, and it might be that it was in¬ 
tended to guard the prisoner against any attack that Wiley might 
make. There was reason to infer that Wiley came up from the cabin 
with a cup of coffee in one hand and a knife in the other, and while 
trying to punish the defendant for telling his wife that he went to 
houses of ill fame, the prisoner had no alternative but to shoot. 
There was no evidence to show that Wiley was robbed by Teufel. 
From the testimony of Kate Hunter it is apparent that he did not 
lavish money upon her. He had bought nothing of any consequence, 
and yet when he was arrested he was entirely without money. Be¬ 
sides, his father gave him some money before he left Rick’s residence. 
The argument of Mr. Watson was an elaborate exposition of the law, 
and his sympathy for the aged father of the defendant and the woman 
who was bereft of her husband was expressed in the most affecting 
language. 


SPEECH OF MR. ROSS. 

Mr. Ross, who closed on behalf of the Commonwealth, said, the 
counsel for the defendant could not have spoken too much of the im¬ 
portance of this case. We all owe a duty to society and justice, and 
the duties make it requisite that circumstances like these should have 
a dispassionate and impartial investigation. On the morning of the 
25th of November, the people of Durham township were aroused 
from their usual tranquility by the intelligence that James Wiley 
was lying dead, in a boat at the Narrows’ lock. The whole neigh¬ 
borhood stood aghast as they heard the news. Every person who 
went to see the body of Wiley, was horrified at the spectacle that 
was presented in the cabin of the boat. What object had Teufel in 
view when he made such anxious inquiries about the boat u Ohio.” 
Twice he goes back to Philadelphia and returns to Wiley’s boat. He 
was in need of money, as he was poor and kept a prostitute in Phila¬ 
delphia. What became of the check that Wiley received at Trenton, 
no one knows for certain. The prisoner’s motives can not be doubt- 



TRIAL OP ALBERT TEUFEL. 


29 


ed. When he told Nowry at Farley’s store that Tenfel was arrested 
for stealing mules he wanted to throw off all suspicion that in a few 
miles further he was going to kill Wiley. After Teufel had mur¬ 
dered Wiley he did not exclaim in innocence, u my God, I have 
killed him.” But he whistles in a low tone for the boy to come to 
the boat, and he whispers to him, “ I have killed him.” When the 
boy asked what he did it for, he did not give the same story that he 
gave at Hick’s house, but told the boy to be quiet and drive on the 
mules. He afterwards went into the cabin and closed the slide after 
him, and the question arises, what was this for ? When the boy first 
saw Wiley, he had but one shot in the head. The medical science 
had however shown that he had received tremendous blows upon the 
head from some blunt instrument. Not only this, but a rope* had to 
be tightly tied around his neck and rags stuffed into the mouth. A 
wound on the breast also seemed to indicate that when the body was 
lifeless he received a heavy stamp from a boot. A crime of such 
atrociousness and horror was never thought, read or dreamt of. The 
body of Wiley was not taken charge of as it would have been done 
had he acted in self-defence. While the body was lying below wel¬ 
tering in blood, the prisoner steers the boat and whistles. On the 
way home he tells the boy that Wiley did not fall on the first shot, 
but that he fell on the second discharge. At home he says that he 
laid one in slumber, and if they would not let him alone he would 
lay some more in slumber. What does this mean ? It leads us to 
infer that he would have killed them, if they would have pretended 
to interfere. When he said that the blood would not come off his 
pants, he reiterated the expressions of many murderers. Such blood 
sticks to the pants, to the heart, and to the conscience. What a ter¬ 
rible night it must have been for the prisoner. He had not the 
courage to pass Mrs. Wiley’s house so early in the morning, though 
the road ovtr the hill was rough, but he wanders and staggers a mis¬ 
erable man to Quakertown. The defendant must have had money. 
IIow could he have gone with the money his father gave him and pay 
his boarding, and afterwards go to Wilmington with his wife. We 
have the testimony, that he bought a hat and a fine sack coat after he 
went to the city. It was well for the jury to consider whether the 
story he told to his father was correct. The father tells, no doubt, 
the truth, but did the defendant lie to the parent ? From the inves¬ 
tigation of Dr. Swartzlander, it is evident that there was no struggle 
between defendant and Wiley. Teufel must have had a grudge 
against Wiley, for he went to the wife of Wiley and tried to create 
dissensions in the family. He was in need of money, and he went to 
Wiley to obtain it, because he was his enemy. What was the pris¬ 
oner’s object in going up the canal ? He had no business up the 
canal, but traveled forward and backward until the boat “ Ohio” left 
Trenton. He went for no other object than money, and to get it 
from Wiley. 


30 


TRIAL OP ALBERT TEUFEL. 


CHARGE OF THE COURT. 

Judge Chapman said :—G entlemen of the jury, it must he a source 
of gratification to you, that you have so nearly reached the termination 
of this long and protracted trial. It must be so to all of us. It is a 
case that involved great labor and preparation, and has called forth 
from the counsel on both sides an able discharge of their duties. You 
have bestowed a most careful attention upon all the testimony and on 
every development that has been made to a fair and just conclusion 
of the issue. It remains for me to perform my duty, and I shall en¬ 
deavor to do it calmly, dispassionately and impartially. The prisoner 
at the bar is entitled to a fair trial, and as far as I am able to judge, 
he has had it. Every man who is placed upon trial in this court, is 
in the first place presumed to be innocent, and it belongs to the Com¬ 
monwealth to prove him guilty of the crime with which he is charged. 
The prisoner at the bar is charged with the wilful murder of James 
Wiley. It appears that on the 23d November last, James Wiley, 
who was the master of the boat “ Ohio,” was at Trenton, where 
he delivered a load of coal, and where he received a check for 
a sum of money, which appears to have been cashed. Teufel came 
on that boat on that day. The boat proceeded up the canal, and was 
accompanied by WJley, Harman Rick, and Albert Teufel. If you 
believe the testimony, those three men were on the boat up to the six 
mile level. The boat was fastened at the Narrows' lock. On the 
morning of the 24th of that month, the body of James Wiley was 
found lying prostrate in the cabin—dead. This is not denied. That 
it was James Wiley's body, and that he was dead, there is no dispute. 
Did he die by his own hands, or did he die a natural death ? He 
had two wounds in his head, both of which, according to the evidence, 
were sufficient to cause death. It is for you to solve this question, 
and it will require your careful and deliberate investigation. The 
history of the transaction is given by Harman Rick. What was the 
testimony which he delivered before the inquest ? Does this story 
about the man coming on the boat at Smithtown stand investigation ? 
If that be true, the prisoner could not be convicted for any offence 
under the indictment. The story is, however, impeached—impeached 
by the same witness. The counsel for the defence admit the prisoner 
killed Wiley. The reason that the prisoner gives for murdering 
Wiley to his father may be true, but it is the defendant's own story, 
and you must compare it with the facts and circumstances of the case. 
If there was a fight, why did Wiley approach Teufel with his gloves 
on ? If there was a quarrel, why was a part of the blouse stuffed 
into the dead man's mouth, and why the pocket books lying empty 
by his side ? If a fight took place, why did Wiley receive all the 
wounds and his opponent none ? Beyond a reasonable doubt there 
was no fight. Harman Rick speaks of none. All the features of the 
case go to show that the murder was committed under the guidance 
of a malicious, depraved and wicked heart. 


TRIAL OF ALBERT TEUFFL. 


31 


VERDICT OF THE JURY. 

The jury returned after about three hours deliberation with a ver¬ 
dict of guilty of murder of the first degree. 

MOTION OF THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY. 

The prisoner was taken back to jail. The next day by motion of 
the district attorney he was brought into court, when Mr. Cope arose 
and said : 

May it please the Court—On the 6th of February, A. D. 1867, the 
Grand Inquest of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, for the county 
of Bucks, preferred a bill of indictment against Albert Teufel, charg¬ 
ing him with having on the 24th day of November, A. D. 1866, wil¬ 
fully, feloniously, and of his malice aforethought, killed and mur¬ 
dered James Wiley. On the 7th, a jury of twelve good and lawful 
men was empanneled for his trial. After a fair, patient, and some¬ 
what protracted trial, the jury on the 12th, rendered a verdict against 
the prisoner of guilty of murder of the first degree. The prisoner is 
now in court, and I move your Honors, that judgment be now passed 
upon him according to law. 

Amid a stillness almost painful, he was solmenly and feelingly 
, ADDRESSED BY JUDGE CHAPMAN. 

Albert Teufel:—After a long and patient trial in this court, you 
have been duly convicted by an impartial and intelligent jury, of the 
wilful, deliberate and premeditated murder of James Wiley. You 
have had the aid of able counsel to vidicate your plea of not guilty ; 
and who have left nothing undone which legal learning and eloquence 
could accomplish to maintain it. But your plea of innocence has 
failed to stand against the overwhelming evidence of your guilt. You 
have been convicted—and in the judgment of the court, justly. 

On the fatal night of the 24th of November last, having sought 
the opportunity, your unsuspecting victim, James Wiley, was launch¬ 
ed into eternity by your remorseless hand. Had you not arrested 
him, in a few hours he would have reached his peaceful home after 
the toils of the week, and the community would have been spared 
the details of this shocking tragedy—and you relieved from the awful 
predicament in which you are placed, and the fate hereafter in store 
for you. Actuated by a heart regardless of social duty, and fatally 
bent on mischief, you accompanied this confiding man who had gen¬ 
erously allowed you a passage on board his boat, to a place believed 
to be most fitting for the execution of your fell purpose. To rob him 
of his hard earnings was manifestly your design, and so hard and im¬ 
penetrable was your heart, that you slew him, with the vain supposi¬ 
tion that you would silence all testimony. But the blood of James 
Wiley cried aloud for vengeance. An overruling Providence took 


32 


TRIAL OR ALBERT TEUFEL. 


note of your crime—and a chain of circumstances was laid in your 
walk, which has been here revealed by the unerring touchstone of 
truth. 

Your case furnishes a marked illustration of the fact that however 
carefully attempted to be concealed, by whatever falsehoods it may 
be covered, sooner or later, the guilty hand of the murderer will be 
exposed to open day. It also affords proof that bravado and a reck¬ 
less disregard of the restraints imposed by fine necessities and interests 
of society, are ineffectual and impotent when confronted by the majesty 
of the law. It will and must triumph. 

You gave James Wiley no time for preparation to meet his Maker, 
but the law mercifully extends to you, what you denied him. May 
you employ the time allowed you, by deep and sincere repentence, 
and prayer that the heavy load of guilt which is upon your soul may 
be washed away, to reconcile your God—and obtain his pardon in 
another world. Have you anything to say why sentence of death 
shall not now be passedupon you ? 

SPEECH OF ALBERT TEUFEL. 

Well sir, in the first place, I am innocent of this charge—and the 
ones that killed Wiley are Christian Teufel and Harman Rick. 
They were making up their minds to do it, and he came to Trenton 
on the same day. Then he made an excuse of going to Bucksville 
for selling his mules; and there they committed their hellish crime. 
My father came to the city, and he then told me he had done it. Then 
he asked me if I would not save him from the gallows ? Then I said 
I knew I would be blamed for it ) and I told him if I was only sent 
to the Penitentiary I would say nothing. They have, been trying 
their damndest for several years to get me out of the way. That man 
in New Hope who swore agin me can be bought at any time for one 
dollar, and so can Alec. Nowrey. Those men from Bristol swore to 
more lies. I wish your honor would give me another trial. I don’t 
deny being on board of his boat on Thursday, at Trenton. I don’t 
deny being in Quakertown. If I had time to send for my witnesses 
I could prove that I left the city on Saturday evening, and reached 
Quakertown at 5 o’clock in the morning. A man was to wait for and 
meet me at Stony Point. This is same as Arthur Spring’s case, he 
was trying to get his son hung, but did not do it. 

THE SENTENCE. 

Albert Teufel, stand up. The sentence of the Court is that you 
Albert Teufel be taken hence to the common jail of Bucks county, 
from whence you were brought, and from thence to the place of 
execution—at such time as shall be appointed for your execution— 
and that you then and there be hanged by the neck until you are 
dead—and may God have mercy on your soul. 

















































































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